


Matchmaker, Matchmaker

by Portia77



Series: Darcy Lewis, Badass Bitch [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Darcy is a confident lady who is happy to go after what she wants, F/M, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Angst, Multi, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, OT3, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Threesome - F/M/M, WinterShieldShock - Freeform, that's important to note, we stan an icon guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26078383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Portia77/pseuds/Portia77
Summary: Darcy Lewis has always had a knack for matchmaking, so realizing Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes have feelings for each other is easier than tying her shoes. Getting either man to come clean might take some work, considering how shy they are about their feelings.But hey, it’s okay if they’re self-conscious. Darcy has enough confidence for the three of them.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Darcy Lewis, Badass Bitch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1799653
Comments: 76
Kudos: 338





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first WinterShieldShock fic I ever wrote. It was supposed to be a oneshot if you can believe it, but it went and made itself wayyy too long, hence the delay on posting any of it. 
> 
> Obviously, this takes place in a made-up land that is post Civil War, pre-Infinity War, where the Rogues are back in the US and living in Avengers Tower (I'm deeply against writing them as living at the compound and I have NO idea why. Truly.)
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy!

It started, as these things do, in a completely unpredictable, up-to-fate series of events. 

Darcy didn’t think much of it when Jane asked her to tag along to a party at the Avengers Tower, hosted by _the_ Tony Stark. Mostly because Darcy was just cool like that, but also because she’d spent enough time with dreamboat Thor Odinson, she thought she was fairly inoculated to superhero-induced starstruck wonder. 

_Big_ mistake. 

“What the actual fuck,” Darcy muttered to Jane as she handed her a beer at the over-the-top open bar. The party was in what looked to be a lounge setting fit for a hotel or a mansion. Massive windows, expensive views -- the party was catered and lush and everything Darcy hoped it would be. It was the people who caught her off guard. 

“They’re so pretty,” she whined under her breath to her friend. “Why the _fuck_ are they all so pretty? Is it like part of the requirements for being on the team? Like, _you must be this jacked and runway-level hot to join the Avengers?”_

“Calm down, _crazy_ ,” Jane hissed in between nursing her drink. They meandered from the bar to the couches where Thor was regaling everyone with stories. Darcy wasn’t surprised; she was pretty sure the god of thunder had storyteller extraordinaire listed as one of his superhero credentials on his resume. “Listen. We’re just going to sit, drink, laugh, and go home. Then you don’t have to do this ever again.” 

“What are you talking about?” Darcy looked at her incredulously. “Free alcohol? Beautiful people? Jane, this is the life I was born to have, I swear. I _belong_ here.” 

“Darcy, please. You can’t do anything weird. This is my first time meeting everyone and--”

“Thor _loves_ you. He’s probably over there right now, talking you up to his hunky friends.”

By the time they got close enough to hear Thor’s story over the music and the other conversations scattered around the room, he was midway through telling Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes a story that was _very_ familiar to Darcy and Jane. 

“Yes, and then--well, I wasn’t in the friendliest of moods, and I might’ve been a bit angry. Anyways, after my Jane hit me with her car--”

“By mistake!” Jane was mortified, but Darcy thought Tony looked fairly gleeful. “It was an accident a-and it was _dark_ and I think it was raining--”

Thor plowed on in his typical fashion as though he _wasn’t_ utterly embarrassing his girlfriend. “And then they got out of the car and my dear friend, Darcy,” he nodded at her, and she saluted him with two fingers tapped to her temple, “fired her--what was it?” 

“My taser,” Darcy said proudly, chin tilted upwards. “Knocked him right out.” 

“Well done,” Natasha said, and, yes, Darcy might’ve swallowed audibly in sheer arousal at the words. Black Widow congratulated her. _Black Widow_ congratulated her. On _shocking a man._ She’d never known a prouder moment. 

“Yes, Lady Darcy is a formidable warrior and a supremely loyal companion,” Thor raved with great gusto. Well okay, as far as first impressions go, she thought this ranked pretty high up there. 

“Right on, big guy,” she said, feeling confident and delightfully tipsy from the bottle of wine she and Jane had knocked back at their apartment. “Not so bad yourself. But let’s talk more about how great I am.” 

And before she could overthink it, Darcy wandered away from her bestie’s side, ignoring Jane’s nervous little protest, and dropped into the free spot on the three-seater couch. 

Smack dab in between Captain America and the Winter Soldier. 

Oh, neat. 

The couch was big enough that she wasn’t touching either of them, and neither of them gave her the impression she was cutting in, but she felt her heartbeat kick up just a notch in self-conscious panic all the same. 

“Oh Darcy,” Jane laughed in a forced way, cutting her a look that strongly suggested they’d be revisiting the rules of friendship after this. She made her way to Thor’s side. “She’s so funny. I’m Jane, by the way. Jane Foster, it’s nice to meet you all.” Thor wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing her into his side. The height difference between them was almost comical, but the affection oozing in Thor’s face was too sincere to be funny. 

Darcy liked it. Liked _him,_ liked the effect he had on Jane. She wished he was around more for Jane’s sake, but that was up to them to sort out. 

“My lady love,” Thor added by way of explanation. Tony Stark snorted into his drink and Jane’s face turned red as a tomato. 

Then began, in Darcy’s opinion, the most _unnecessary_ round of introductions from people whose faces were plastered on the news on a literally daily basis. 

“I’m Natasha,” said Black Widow.

“You know me,” Tony Stark said, waving a hand around. He looked at Darcy, pointing a finger at her. “You. Who are you? More importantly, have you tasered Point Break since then? And, hey, isn’t that a design flaw, Sparky? You being the God of Thunder and all?” 

“Haven’t needed to yet,” Darcy shrugged. “I’m Darcy Lewis.” Her father, rest his soul, had raised her on the importance of a handshake, so she turned in her seat and offered her hand to Steve Rogers first. 

He took it without pause, and she made sure to shake firmly, even though she knew he could probably snap her in two with one hand. 

“Steve Rogers,” he repeated with a smile, and _whew,_ was it hot in here? Darcy returned the smile and hastily turned away, feeling a bit blinded and way too dazzled for her own good. 

Except the vision on her right wasn’t any less pretty. 

Tall, dark and brooding accepted her hand much slower, and Darcy felt a bit stupid for her thoughtlessness. She knew only very little about what the Winter Soldier had lived through, but enough to know he was likely traumatized and could very well be against touching. Or people, in general. 

But his hand was gentle in hers, and as warm as Steve’s. And good _lord_ , those cheek bones were sharp enough to cut diamond. She struggled valiantly not to drool.

“Bucky,” he said, not smiling, but not frowning either. 

“Pleased to meet ya.” Darcy returned her attention to Thor, distinctly under the impression Bucky wouldn’t much appreciate her leaping into sudden and sporadic conversation. That was fine. If it was one thing Darcy Lewis could do, it was small talk. “Thor. Tony makes a good point. Shouldn’t electricity be your jam?” 

He frowned in contemplation. “A bandulon breathes fire, but it can still be burned, can it not?” 

Darcy made a face. “Uhhhh _yeah_ , makes sense.” In her periphery, she saw Steve grin into his drink. _Point for Darcy._

“Dr. Foster, Thor told us about your research,” Natasha interrupted calmly. An untouched drink rested in her grasp, what looked to be a dirty martini. She wore a sleek little black dress and her red hair pulled back in an elegant curling braid. “Congratulations on your breakthrough.” 

Jane’s face turned a further shade of red, if possible. “Oh, thank you. It--well, it’s been very exciting.” And then the conversation took off into the land of science talk and Darcy felt herself tune out almost immediately. Not that Jane’s research wasn’t _cool._ It was. But Darcy had to work to keep up with the theories at the best of times, fully sober, let alone when she was pleasantly tipsy and distracted by very stunning people. 

Darcy settled back in her seat and curled one foot under, sneaking a glance at Steve Rogers. She’d seen pictures of Captain America plenty of times on TV, including footage of his heroic exploits saving the world and all, but photos of Steve Rogers were rare. The man liked his privacy, which Darcy could understand. There was little about Captain America that wasn’t shared with the world. It was only fair if he wanted to keep Steve Rogers private. 

As such, Darcy recognized an opportunity when she saw one, and freely let her eyes rake over his profile and upper body with girlish glee as he watched Jane with patently polite interest. His jawline was as strong as his eyebrow game. Darcy always saw Captain America as a clean-shaven man, but when she looked closer, she saw--oh sweet Jesus-- _stubble_ dotting his cheeks and chin. It was, as could only be expected, wildly attractive. 

If you asked Jane, Darcy knew the scientist would say that Thor’s body is the greatest gift to humankind, and up until today, Darcy probably wouldn’t have argued. But now she was looking at Steve’s broad shoulders and delightfully sculpted arms--which were bulging, even under a long-sleeved henley--and thought she might have to reevaluate her stance. He was _cut._ Crazy fit. 

He was also a bit...rigid. Like he hadn’t loosened up yet. She watched him sip his water and decided to indulge 15 year-old Darcy’s schoolgirl fantasies for just a little. 

With a deep inhale, Darcy plucked together all her courage and cleared her throat. 

“Question,” she began without prompting. At the sound of her voice, Steve turned his head to her, the epitome of polite and good-mannered. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve encountered in this century? Okay, I’ll go first: one time, I saw a man walking down the street wearing seven cowboy hats stacked on his head, one on top of the other.” She used her hands to demonstrate the height. “Okay, now you.”

Steve pondered it for only a second. “Inflation.”

“Ah,” she nodded her head wisely. “Yeah, capitalism’s a bitch, am I right?”

“Language,” Tony called, sitting across the table from them. He then turned his attention back to Jane like he’d never spoken.

“Ignore him,” Steve grumbled, and Darcy felt _absolutely_ _tickled pink_ when she spotted the captain starting to blush. 

Her head swivelled one-eighty to look at Bucky, who was still watching her with a neutral, mellow sort of expression. If she were any more intoxicated than she was at present, she’d have told him his hair game was on point; it fell in waves, visibly soft and silky to the touch, not greasy or dry. Her mouth salivated at the outlandish fantasy of one day getting to braid it.

“How about you? Weirdest thing you’ve seen this side of the century?” 

“Toe socks.” 

His answer had her smiling so hard, she thought her face would split in half. “Toe socks,” she repeated with a bark of laughter. “Yeah, those are pretty weird. Have you tried a pair before?” 

Bucky nodded and, to her delight, offered the smallest, almost-there smile. It wasn’t really a smile, but there was enough amusement on his face to soften his expression, to make him look more open and relaxed. 

“Wilson gave them to me. I didn’t like them.” 

“You know what you have to give him in return,” Darcy said, making it sound like it was obvious. Bucky arched a perfect brow at her. “Captain America footie pyjamas. The ones with a little butt flap.” 

The soldier eyed her for a moment, considering her answer. After a while, he sat back in his seat, looking quietly pleased. 

“Yes,” he said simply. “That’ll do.” 

Darcy pretended to bow from where she was sitting, sweeping out one hand graciously. “Happy to be of service.” And she took a sip from her drink, pleased with herself all around. 

“Where are you from, Miss Lewis?” Steve inquired, turning a bit more to face her now. 

“Virginia. Moved around a bit since then, though.” 

“And now you’re in New York?” 

“Sure am,” she said. “How about you? You two have permanent digs here?” 

“Yeah, Bucky and I both live at the Tower here, but we’re born-and-bred Brooklyn.” 

Darcy narrowed her eyes on him then on his friend, who was listening and watching intently. “Ahh, Brooklyn, eh? Any chance you could bust out a Brooklyn badboy accent?” 

Steve’s baby blues twinkled. “Tony forbade all Brooklyn accents on his property.”

She scoffed. “Well that’s lame. So you guys have Netflix or what?” 

Darcy was happy to keep the conversation in the realm of film, even going as far as to talk about songs and movies that they liked when they were kids. But her favourite thing by far was getting their take on modern TV. 

To her surprise, Steve liked Person of Interest and Mad Men. Bucky was an avid fan of Game of Thrones. They both enjoyed the Walking Dead, though Steve was fairly appalled at how graphic television had become (Bucky never so much as flinched at the goriest of scenes). 

“All excellent choices,” Darcy said with an approving nod. “Steve, you gotta watch The Wire and _you,”_ she pointed at Bucky, “need to watch The 100. Have you seen Harry Potter?” 

“No,” Bucky wrinkled his nose. “I’ve heard of it. It sounds strange.” 

“Probably strange to _hear_ about it, but if you liked Game of Thrones, the odds of you liking Potter are pretty high. Lord of the Rings, also. That’s my shit right there.”

“Your what?” 

“She means she likes it,” Steve added, and Darcy waved a hand in concurrence. 

Before she could say anything else, Jane materialized in front of her, holding out her hand. She had on her most excited I’m-About-To-Do-Science face. “Sorry to interrupt, but Thor wants to show us his floor. Apparently Tony put in a lab just for me, and it’s been retrofitted for my research on--”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darcy accepted Jane’s help to stand. “No need to get all nerdy on me, Janey. Big guy, lead the way!” 

“It shall be my pleasure to escort two fine maidens on this journey,” Thor boomed, and Darcy snorted. 

“Haven’t been a maiden for years, buddy.” She glanced over her shoulder at Steve and Bucky, the former of which had turned pink at her implication, a sight that amused her to no end. “Great talking to you, gentlemen. Enjoy your evening.” 

“You as well, Miss Lewis,” Steve said, and Bucky nodded in farewell. 

And with a wiggle of her fingers, she was marching off, taking mental stock of the conversation she had just had with _Captain fucking America_ and his equally handsome, doubly intimidating BFF. 

_Well Darcy,_ she thought to herself, _you’ve had your fun. Made your mark. Got a good story to tell the grandkids one day._

_Too bad you’ll never see them again._

* * *

‘Never again’ turned out to be approximately a week later. 

“‘Move to New York,’ they said,” Darcy huffed, sprinting down the streets of Manhattan with a hundred other people packed around her. Everyone around her was running for their lives. “It’ll be fun, they said! _Lies!”_

When Tony Stark told Jane that she could set up shop in his tower, Darcy had been quite vocal about her concerns. Moving, the extravagant cost of living, becoming dependent on her boyfriend’s best friend’s freakish levels of generosity -- all of them valid. Her biggest concern, however, had been more along the lines of _Manhattan is attacked by a new danger every other week and we’ve lived through enough thrill-seeking, thanks._

She wished it was an exaggeration, but honestly, she was starting to think this place was cursed. Oh _sure_ , it was cute as hell, and she loved the touristy shit, not to mention the shopping was a dream come true for anyone with inordinate amounts of wealth to spare. Too bad the cost of living there came at the price of your safety. 

Something exploded overhead, and a shower of broken glass rained down. People were abandoning cars, screaming, shouting wordless noises in search of help. Darcy didn’t know what exactly was attacking them. One second, she was sipping her latte and watching funny cat videos on her phone, and the next moment, the window of the coffee shop was blown out and people were yelling that they were under attack. 

“Jane!” she shouted over the roar into her cell phone. It was almost impossible to make it her friend’s voice over the chaos. She’d have to trust that her friend could hear her and that she was still at the tower. “We got a situation here! Tell Thor to get the team together and haul ass to Times Square. _And bring mew mew!”_

 _“Darcy?”_ More unintelligible words were spoken, but she couldn’t make it out. Her frustration mounted when a large hunk of rock came crashing down mere feet from her, landing in the ground with a deadly thud.

“Just... _send Thor and the others!”_

And then the phone tumbled from her hands and ended up left behind on the pavement, probably trampled under someone’s foot. She let out a particularly filthy curse that would’ve made her mother’s toes curl and kept pushing onwards. Above her, beams of light shot out in pulses, sending debris flying.

“Oh fuck!” she shouted when an explosion sent a car flying into the building across from her. It was enough to make her and the group around her stop in a panic, to stall them long enough to see the source of all the trouble: great, green lizard-like things that walked on two legs and, evidently, could scale buildings, judging from the two that were clambering down the side of the building and headed straight for her. 

_“Holy shit.”_ She stood there, frozen stiff for half a second. Then her hand scrambled into her purse, digging desperately for her handy dandy taser gun. One of them jumped down and sprinted across the street, while the other leapt down and, to Darcy’s horror, ran straight for her. There wasn’t even any time to lift her gun and aim, it was coming right at her when--

A sharp whistle pierced the air, and the green lizard dude went flying, knocked sideways by a giant, magic hammer. 

“MEW MEW!” Lo and behold, the god of thunder himself appeared seconds later to catch his weapon in a raised fist. 

“Darcy!” Thor strode over to her urgently. “Get yourself to shelter! It’s not--” he paused to send his hammer into another creepy crawly beast, “--it isn’t safe here!” 

“Copy that!” Now the Avengers were on scene, ducking for cover didn’t sound like such a bad idea. Darcy rushed into the nearest shop with a dozen others and scrambled for the back of the room. She clutched the taser in her hand, gripping it with all the stubborn tenacity she’d been born with. 

Time slipped by in a haze. Sporadic crashing and shouting punctuated the trembling, terrified noises the rest of the people hiding for cover emitted, all of them huddled behind the counter of an ice cream parlor. 

Slowly, the shouting came to a stop, and the sound of glass shattering and cars being crushed disappeared. 

“Is that it?” the man crouched next to her asked, hands over his head as he trembled. 

Everyone was breathing hard through their mouths, several were panting. “I’m not sure.” Darcy slowly got to her feet, ignoring the harried protests of the others. “I’m gonna go and check. _Stay put.”_

The aftermath of the fight was actually not as bad as she’d expected. Lots of garbage laying around from people who had dropped their belongings and high-tailed it out of there, but that was understandable. Some cars were crunched to pieces, and there were a lot of windows for high-rise buildings that would need replacing. All in all, there didn’t appear to be any collapsed buildings or burning fires. Darcy counted that as a win.

About fifty feet away, she spotted Thor dealing with what looked to be the last of the creepy crawlies, clearly winning, too. 

Or at least, he _was_ winning, until one of them slipped away unexpectedly, turned its head at the last second and, before she could do anything, started coming her way. 

“Darcy!” The blond god swung his hammer fiercely against the last of the beasties. “Hide yourself!” 

But she couldn’t go back inside now. She couldn’t risk leading it into the store where all the others were laying in wait, not over her own stupidity. 

Thor swung Mjolnir, and she thought she saw a red, white and blue figure emerge from one of the side streets, but neither could stop Darcy from planting her feet, one in front of the other, raising the taser and--

BZZZZT!

The green lizard monster froze in place, jerking around wildly, and the delay was all that was needed for Thor to hurl his hammer at the creature and send it crashing face-first to the ground. 

Darcy let out a delighted laugh. “Not today, you Godzilla motherfuckers!” 

But her smile rapidly vanished, as she stared at the splat on the ground that had once been trying to kill her only a split second earlier. Thor was barking orders from his place down the street, but Darcy couldn’t really hear him. She couldn’t see much either, her vision swimming before her eyes. Her ears felt like they had filled with cotton, and she stood there for a long moment, mute, blind, rooted in place. The adrenaline that had flooded her system was abating now, and she recognized the funny, terrifying feeling of shock setting in. Her knees wobbled. It was all she could do to stagger into the nearest wall and slump over, breathing hard.

“Miss Lewis. Miss Lewis!” Steve Rogers was jogging to her, decked in full regalia with his shield in tow. He crouched down before her with worry in his eyes, leaving a respectable distance between them. “Were you hurt?” 

“No,” she panted. “Just... getting real tired of the whole aliens-attack-Earth thing.” 

“I understand,” he said kindly. “The good news is we got them all. Tony and the others are going to fly back now.” 

“Oh great.” She sagged against the wall, relieved. “You’re sure--”

“Positive. Think you actually got the last of ‘em.” 

“Yeah.” She grinned suddenly. “Hey, does this make me an Avenger?” 

His answering smile was lopsided and charming. “Well, all bets are off if you get yourself an outfit.” He held out his hand. “May I give you a lift home? I drove us.” 

Before she could ask just who _us_ entailed, Bucky Barnes materialized, dressed head to toe in black. He wore an armored vest with about a dozen straps, a long-sleeve tunic, and pants that made him look sinfully delicious. Darcy wasn’t sure which part of the look she liked best.

“Miss Lewis.” His brow furrowed in what she thought might be concern. “Are you okay?”

“I’d be a lot better if you both called me Darcy.” Bucky offered a small quirk of his lips in return. “You just missed me and Captain here lamenting the ongoing existence of aggressive aliens.” 

“A real calamity,” he agreed dryly. “It does make life interesting though.”

Darcy pursed her lips drily. “Think you’re confusing _interesting_ with nightmarish. Inconvenient, at the very least.” 

“I was just offering _Darcy_ a ride home,” Steve said, slinging the shield onto his back and standing up again. Ever the gentleman, he helped her to her feet, and she tried not to die a little from giddy excitement at the touch. “Tony says the cleanup crew is going to take it from here.” 

“Fine by me,” Bucky drawled. “Never was one for picking up after your messes.” He looked at Darcy curiously, who was mostly busy trying to process what had just happened to her. “I’ll drive.” 

With a renewed pep to her step, she fell in stride with Steve, letting Bucky lead the way. After Darcy squeezed all the info out of them that she could get regarding the attack, they spent the rest of the short drive to hers and Jane’s apartment chatting about _Darcy_ , of all things. 

“Tony put us up here for the time being,” she explained, when Bucky asked why she didn’t live at the tower. “But I think Jane’s gonna move in with Thor by the end of the month, so it looks like I’ll be tagging along. I am _definitely_ not paid enough to cover rent by myself in New York City. Not paid at all, actually. Intern,” she added pointedly at Bucky and Steve’s surprise. 

“How long have you been her intern?” asked Bucky. 

“Hmm couple years now.” 

Steve’s brows went up. “What made you stay on so long?” 

“She’s my friend.” Darcy’s answer was simple, and it was true. She didn’t have any personal interest in astrophysics. In fact, she wasn’t a scientist at all, but she _loved_ Jane. Darcy was just a PoliSci major who’d unintentionally wormed her way into a life she could barely believe was her own. 

Neither Steve or Bucky said anything about her reply, but she thought there was something respectful and approving in the way they looked at her after.

The conversation flowed in an easy way, all the way to her apartment building. 

“Thanks for the lift, boys.”

“Our pleasure,” Bucky said, looking over his shoulder to meet her gaze. She didn’t know what he saw there, but she could guess it was alarming enough to remind him that she had just had yet another near-death experience and was not, unlike the rest of the members in the vehicle, genetically enhanced. “Let us walk you inside.” 

They both got out like the perfect gentlemen she was sure they’d been raised to be. Steve even offered her his arm, which she took with a tremulous smile, while Bucky let his arm hover behind her back, not really touching, just shielding. 

By the time they reached the door, Darcy was in control enough to thank them again, reassure them she was absolutely a-ok, and send them off with promises to keep in touch.

She made it to the shower before she collapsed, trembling and panting, heart rattling in her chest. _You’re okay,_ she told herself over and over. _You’re okay, Darcy Lewis. You’re okay. You’re okay._

* * *

Darcy woke from her umpteenth near-death experience slumped over in the bathroom, where she’d huddled down for the night and never gotten up. Everything ached. She was fairly certain her bones actually creaked when she stood up and raised her arms overhead in a languid stretch. 

It was as disorienting as ever, surviving something like that. All she really wanted was to pretend nothing had happened, but she was irritated with the knowledge that she’d _have_ to admit it happened, if only for the fact that she’d lost her phone in all the chaos, and she was pretty sure “destroyed by aliens” wasn’t covered in her insurance plan. 

“Time for a bit of emergency shopping,” she sang to herself as she washed and dressed in a mindless daze. She tossed her apartment keys in her purse, peaked inside to check she wasn’t missing anything, and--

“Son of a bitch!” Darcy’s hands rooted about frantically, tugging loose papers, her taser, and several tampons out in her madness. “Where the fuck’s my wallet?!” 

Twenty minutes later and Darcy had turned her apartment upside down, scoured the front steps, checked in with the security desk and gone through her laundry, swearing up a storm all the while. 

“Bullshit,” she hissed. “This is such _bullshit_.” 

There was no way she’d dropped it during her mad dash for safety yesterday. She’d seen it when she got in Steve’s car, sitting there in the bottom of her handbag, as promising and reassuring as ever. 

By the time Jane arrived, Darcy was losing her mind. 

“My wallet _and_ my phone!” Darcy shouted without prompting. Jane, who had thrown her arms around her and began to utter her heartfelt relief to find Darcy safe, pulled back, startled. “I lost my wallet _and_ my phone, Jane. You know how hard it’s gonna be to replace everything? It’s… Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Darcy rubbed at her face irritably. “It’s gonna be a fucking pain in the ass, that’s what.”

“Oh. Are you sure you lost both?” 

“Yeah. My phone is probably in pieces in Times Square, or in the trash, or… Being sold for parts, I don’t know.” Darcy ran a hand through her hair. “But I coulda _sworn_ I had my wallet when Cap and Sarge drove me home.” 

“Well that’s--wait, what?”

“You heard me just fine.” Darcy held out her hand demandingly. “Now gimme some money so I can go to Avengers Tower and harangue Stark into letting me in the building.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“To see Steve and Bucky, obviously, and find out if I left my wallet in their car.” 

The trip to the Avengers Tower was time-consuming, and it was entirely due to the fact that most of the streets closer to the Tower were clogged with construction and police officers redirecting traffic. Darcy stared glumly out the window the whole ride, with no phone and no music to listen to but the techno pop radio station playing in the taxi. 

“Hey, you can let me out here.” 

The cabbie glanced over his shoulder. “Here?” 

“Yeah. Close enough.” It was actually several blocks from where she wanted to be, but if she had to sit for one more minute, she’d probably combust. 

Darcy knew her way around Midtown by this point, which was good, but honestly it wouldn’t have mattered even if she hadn’t. The bright, glowing AVENGERS could’ve led her there all on its own. 

“Well, you’re easy enough to find,” Darcy said to herself, hands on her hips as she stared at the entrance. “But how the fuck do I get upstairs…” 

No ID. No phone. She didn’t even know who to call. (She was pretty sure going to the help desk and asking to talk to Thor was out of the question). 

Darcy was seconds away from making a run for it and hoping for the best, when she saw her way in.

“You!” 

The man in shades jumped and put a hand on his chest, eyes wide with faux innocence. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” Darcy marched over. “My name is Darcy Lewis. I was at that party Stark threw a couple weeks ago. I work with Jane Foster and Erik--”

“Selvig,” Clint finished with a sigh. “Yeah. Hard to forget a brainwashed buddy. Why are you harassing me, Lewis?”

“I need help getting upstairs.” 

“And that’s my problem because…?” 

She only barely resisted stomping her foot. “I need your _help._ I lost my phone in the shitstorm that hit the city yesterday, so I can’t call anyone to let me in.” 

“Uh huh, still not seeing how it’s my problem. Or, like, why you really need to go in, actually. You want Stark to buy you a new phone?” 

“No. Well, _actually_ yeah, sure, but not my point.” She moved to stand in front of him before he could reach the security checkpoint that would clear him for the elevators. “I think Captain America has my wallet.”

Clint took his sunglasses off and pocketed them. “You think _Steve Rogers_ , all-American hero, stole your wallet.”

“Did I say _steal_ ?” she snapped. “Oh my god, of all the Avengers to run into… No, I’m _hoping_ he has it, because it’d save me a lot of hassle replacing all my stuff if he does. It’d also make getting a new phone a lot easier with things like a credit card, my license, so on and so forth. Ya feel me?” 

Clint looked at her for a long moment and sighed, sounding very much like he had just been asked to file a decade’s worth of paperwork. “Fine. Just give me a minute.” He wandered away, cell phone in hand as he tapped at his screen. There were a few minutes of awkwardly standing and waiting, and she watched as Clint’s phone lit up with another text. 

“You’re in luck. He knows who you are and he’s even given you permission to come on up to _Chez Barnes-Rogers_.” 

“Does he have my wallet?” 

Clint shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Just told him you were looking for him and that I’d make sure you found his floor.” 

“Thanks, I really--did you say his _floor?”_

Clint did in fact say his floor, and he hadn’t misspoken either. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes shared one of the floors of the tower, courtesy of Tony Stark, which made sense when she thought about it, recalling the floor Thor had to himself. It didn’t change the fact that the pair were probably living in a place bigger than the combined square footage of all apartments she'd rented throughout her adult life.

True to his word, Clint helped her bypass security -- an agitated man by the name of _Happy_ , of all things -- and escorted her up the elevator and straight to the 37th floor. 

“Friday will let me know if you try wandering,” Clint cautioned her lightly, before clapping her on the back, giving her a nudge out the door and stepping back into the elevator.

The elevator doors didn’t open up right into the apartment, which Darcy was grateful for. That would’ve felt too...invasive. She was already trying not to get worked up over the fact she was banging at some guy’s door in the desperate hopes that one of them had seen her wallet. It felt, even to her, like the world’s lamest excuse to see the duo again.

“Here goes,” she whispered, and raised her fist to knock twice.

She didn’t have to wait long at all. Although she’d been ready for the blond-haired stud muffin that was Steve Rogers, she instead found herself face to face with the ex-assassin with great hair. 

Bucky’s face was unreadable when the door opened, parting just wide enough to reveal the interior of a beautifully furnished apartment that looked as spacious as she’d guessed. At a passing glance, the decor struck an even balance between a modern style and 1940s vibes. Over Bucky’s _(very fine, very broad)_ shoulder, she saw Steve Rogers standing in the kitchen, a dish towel over his shoulder as he diced something on a cutting board. His face brightened some when he spotted her, and he raised the knife in hand, waving it to say hi.

“Darcy,” Bucky greeted, mouth twitching his not-quite-smile. The look was growing on her dangerously quick, both charming and oddly vulnerable.

“Hi,” she said, trying not to feel inordinately stupid and out of place just standing at their door. “Thanks for letting me up. Uh, this is gonna sound ridiculous, but I think I left my wallet in your car. At least, I hope I did. Otherwise I’m kinda screwed because I swear I’ve looked everywhere else, and there’s no way the streets of New York are gonna let a wallet of any kind just sit around looking pretty.” 

The door opened wider. Darcy accepted the unspoken invitation to step inside. 

Steve’s blond brow was furrowed in contemplation. “I’m sorry, Darcy. I haven’t seen it. We can head down to the garage and take a look just to make sure--”

“I have it.” 

Bucky’s simple answer was enough to draw both of them up short. Even Steve’s face was one of surprise at his friend’s confident reply. “Wait here,” he ordered calmly, and turned on his heel to walk down the hall, presumably to his room. 

“O...kay...?” She shoved her hands in her pockets, rather at a loss for what to think or do or say. She toed the welcome mat under her feet, eyeing Steve as he worked in the kitchen. “Hey, thanks again for the lift home. Really appreciate it.” 

“It was our pleasure,” he said easily, warmly. Darcy wasn’t one to put a lot of stock in the words of strangers, but she was struck dumb by the inescapable belief that he really _meant_ it, too. Like helping people was just a thing he genuinely enjoyed, whether it was saving the world from imminent death or giving a random woman a lift to her apartment. “You’re welcome to come have a seat, if you want.” 

For some unfathomable reason, the offer was significant in her mind. She smiled politely, hopped onto the kitchen stool and rested her hands on the countertop, all while trying and failing to not drool at the sight of Steve Rogers in all his glory. Nearly ten seconds of awkward silence slipped past before she grabbed at the first conversation starter she could spot. “Whatcha making?” 

“Stew,” he said, continuing in his friendly way. She was getting used to that the same way she was getting used to reading Bucky’s minute changes in expression. Everything about Steve Rogers screamed _friendly_ . Sure, he was also big and strong and built like a brick shit house, and he could _definitely_ kill her in seconds if he so desired, but as someone who had only ever interacted with him as a civilian instead of an enemy or even a sparring partner, it was hard looking at him and not thinking about what a terrific cuddle buddy he’d make. 

“Right on. Old family recipe?” 

“Kinda.” Steve tossed a mountain of diced onions, celery and green pepper into a wok-sized pan. “Bucky’s mom used to make it. Of course, we didn’t always have the money for all the ingredients at the time, so it’s nicer now.”

“Is it weird?” she asked, meandering over to hop onto a stool and watch him jostle the pan with one hand, keeping the frying veggies from sticking. “I heard food tastes different now than it did in the forties.”

“It _does_ ,” he said emphatically. “It’s not all bad, though. We used to boil everything. Sure wish we’d known there were other ways of cooking when I was growing up. Would’ve saved me a lot of nights spent staring at a plateful of boiled carrots as a kid.” The teasing inflection of his voice made her giggle. 

“It was green beans for me,” she informed him confidentially. She set her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands, letting her feet dangle. “The only time I was sent to bed without supper was when my dad caught me slipping them to the dog at dinner.”

“Your sneaking skills needed some work, hmm?” 

She raised both brows pointedly. “Well, I _did_ get out of eating them that night, soooo... who was the winner there?” 

Steve chuckled. “Buck’s not keen on them either, so you’re safe here.” 

“Finally! Someone gets it.” 

“You should stay for dinner.” They both looked up at the sound of Bucky’s voice, having returned from his bedroom with Darcy’s beat-up green wallet in hand. He walked over and held it out to her. “Here, I figured it was yours. Was gonna come by later today.” 

She took the wallet with an appreciative nod. “Thank you. Um, I super don’t want to impose or anything…” 

“Please,” Steve piped up, transferring the vegetable mix into a large pot. “Stay. We never have guests.” 

“Gonna be lots left over,” Bucky added, his face unreadable but focused. Intent. He reached behind him to pull his hair back into a bun -- _holy hell_ , she wished the pair of them were just a little bit less attractive. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel like her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth any time she tried talking to them. “Punk over here always makes too much.” 

“And yet, I never hear you complaining.” Steve’s quip was rife with sarcasm, the familiar kind two close friends shared.

Darcy’s head was spinning. Were they really inviting her _for dinner?_ Dinner at their very charming, very swanky apartment in Avengers Tower? More importantly, was she really thinking of saying no?? 

_Don’t be stupid, Darce -- now’s your chance to create some stories for the grandchildren. Stories that don’t involve sexual escapades or near-death experiences._

“Twist my arm, why don’t ya,” she teased at last. Steve beamed at her while Bucky settled on a pleased nod. He was inching closer and closer to a true smile. 

She helped Bucky set the table while Steve did the finishing touches for their dinner. As they worked, she found herself asking all sorts of questions. 

“What do you think of living at the tower?” (Steve liked it. Bucky thought it was tolerable.) 

“Do you wanna do any travel?” ( _No_ , on both accounts.) 

“Do you think you’ll ever get a pet? Steve seems like a dog person.” (Not any time soon, but yes, Steve is _definitely_ a dog person.) 

“What’s your take on modern politics so far?” ( _Nazis_ are a thing again. Why are _Nazis_ a thing again??)

The two men took turns answering her questions, feeding into one another’s answers without cutting each other off. It was like they shared a brain. Steve could pick up talking right where Bucky left off, and then Bucky could step in and finish speaking when Steve was done. It was _fascinating._ Back and forth they went, asking Darcy questions of their own as well. 

“What did you study in school?” (PoliSci -- oh sorry, that’s political science, Bucky.)

“How did you end up working with Jane?” (A never-ending internship, which isn’t exactly paying the bills. So if there’s an opening on the team, just FYI -- Darcy’s free.)

“What would you like to do next?” (Don’t know. Something where she doesn’t feel completely out of her depths would be cool, though.)

The meal was surprisingly delicious. Darcy didn’t think to censor her surprise until Bucky was snickering into his plate and Steve was blushing a bit, insisting that it was nothing difficult. 

“It’s excellent,” she said firmly. “ _Not_ that I expected otherwise.” 

Bucky scooped a chunk of beef onto his spoon. “Don’t lie. No one thinks Captain America can cook.”

She offered a sheepish, almost apologetic shrug as she chewed a mouthful of veggies. “Yeah, I don’t know what it is that just screams ‘I’m helpless with a whisk’.” 

By the time the evening was done, Steve had laughed several times, Bucky had smiled discreetly into his dinner, and Darcy was feeling thoroughly proud of herself. She was _good_ at this, at making them unwind. Maybe it wasn’t a skill unique to just her, but it didn’t change the fact she could make them lighten up a bit, and she relished in the sensation.

Riding that high, she didn’t have any trouble whatsoever taking Bucky up on his offer to come back for dinner the next night. Which was great, since it was more of a request, with him looking her dead in the eye and saying, “Come for supper tomorrow. We’ll make cabbage rolls.” 

_“We?”_ Steve echoed loudly in the background, eyebrows high on his forehead. “And since when did _you_ cook?” 

Darcy agreed to return, too surprised to say no. Only when the door to their apartment was closed and she was safely in the elevator did she mouth to herself, _What the fuck am I doing?_

She spent the next twenty-four hours working herself into a mild panic about their next dinner. A glass of wine beforehand got her feeling comfortable enough to head over to their place once more, and she was delighted when that night went much the same as the first. Steve cooked, Darcy rambled, Bucky listened. She brought wine and specialty candies from the 1940s, feeling thoroughly satisfied with herself when both boys lit up like the fourth of July, ripping through the contents of her shopping bag like kids on Christmas. Afterwards, she helped clean up and swapped stories with Bucky while washing the dishes, quietly amazed at how comfortable she felt.

Just like that, it became a thing. Dinner with Steve and Bucky was something she looked forward to, and it wasn’t just because of their very pretty faces. They were _fun_ to be around, not in any way she was used to. The generational gap between them was painfully obvious at times, but it didn’t change the fact that they were only roughly 30 years apiece, not including the time jumps both had survived. They still wanted to have _fun_ , even if they weren’t too sure what that meant for them. 

So Darcy Lewis took up the mantle for the Quest to Entertain the Supersoldiers. Pop culture had always been her forte, and it was a genuine delight to dream up random odds and sods to bring to make them smile. 

Movies and television were easy. Some of it was trial and error, but she caught on pretty quick to both of their styles. Yes, Bucky liked sci-fi and fantasy like he’d said, but he also liked a certain brand of comedy too. She had them watch Ocean’s 11 one night, and he absolutely loved it. 

Steve was a bit harder to get a read on, but she cracked him in time as well. A good story, for the most part, made his day. Something happy, something with a feel-good ending. He cried in Forrest Gump, even though he swore it was dust. She brought Finding Nemo one day on a whim, and grinned to herself the next day when she found out he’d acquired it for his own collection. After that, they became Disney pals, wherein she made him (and Bucky, by extension) sit through countless animated movies. She generally avoided the princess films, opting for more the likes of Lion King, the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and Hercules. 

One thing Darcy made a point of doing, and she rather hoped neither man caught on, was to gradually add more movies to the rotation that had a strong representation of marginalized and underrepresented communities, especially of the LGBTQ variety. Neither had any complaints, although Bucky did make a comment one time about how much times have changed. Darcy agreed the times _had_ changed, and they left it at that. 

With time, Darcy also came to understand things they _didn’t_ like. War movies were out. Action films were okay, but anything with graphic torture scenes were a big No-No, with a capital N. Scenes with drowning were also _greatly_ frowned upon. Worried probably more than she should’ve been, Darcy started to censor her film selection. 

“Whatcha watching?” Jane asked her one day, emerging from the lab to visit Darcy at her apartment, head tilted as she tried to understand what was on screen. 

“Documentary about whales.”

Jane let out a noise of surprise. “Didn’t know that was your thing, Darcy?” 

“Yeah well,” she waved a hand about. “I thought the boys might like it.” 

“Uh-huh,” Jane said with a slow smirk, the kind that Darcy definitely did not like. “The boys, eh? So why, pray tell, are you watching it now and not with them?” 

“I wanna make sure there’s nothing shitty in it,” she said, refusing to make eye contact with her dumb friend who was even more smug now. “Oh, fuck _off_ , Jane.” 

It wasn’t just movies she brought over. One Saturday morning, she unplugged her Wii, loaded that and the controllers into a box, and carted it off to Steve and Bucky’s for a game of Wii bowling, followed by tennis, followed by boxing, followed by Mario Cart, followed by every game she could get her hands on in the immediate future. 

“Okay,” Steve, who had turned his nose up at _kids today_ with their video games, admitted defeat by the end of the day. “I get it now.” 

Ever the humble one, Darcy cheered, loud and victorious, at making Captain America eat his words.

Darcy had always loved to make people laugh, which was likely the reason she felt so damned pleased with herself every time she was invited back, particularly excited when they swapped cell numbers and started texting. She even started a group chat and called it The Super Duper Fun Crew. (Her happiness over it had _nothing_ to do with the fact that they were both drop dead gorgeous hunks of manflesh. Really. It didn’t.)

Members of the Super Duper Fun Crew generally didn’t meet up outside of Steve and Bucky’s apartment, but that suited her just fine. She was happy to keep the pair to herself. After all, how many people in this world could claim to have witnessed Steve Rogers doing charades? 

Bucky especially was an interesting experience. With every visit she made, he joked more and frowned less. His barely-there smiles became full-fledged grins, became quiet huffs of laughter that made her heart sing. She knew he was seeing a therapist -- a friend of Steve’s named Sam who Bucky made clear he was not entirely fond of -- and somewhere down the line, she just assumed his increasingly relaxed manners were thanks to that. It took her way too long to realize that his increasing confidence had less to do with his therapy sessions, and far more to do with his level of comfort in the people around him. Bucky Barnes trusted very few people, and Darcy Lewis had magically, against all odds, become one of them. 

She cherished it. Cherished _them_ . The pair of them were a bit dorky and goofy together. The first time she heard Steve call Bucky a jerk and Bucky called Steve a punk, she snickered inwardly. _Oh cute,_ she thought wryly. _They have pet names for each other._

It wasn’t a serious thought at the time. She just took it as part and parcel with the nature of their close friendship, not quite brotherhood, more like one soul stretched between two bodies. But then time slipped by, months vanished with the snap of her fingers, and movie nights with the boys were as natural as breathing. Darcy oftentimes stayed late into the night and let them send her home in a cab around midnight (they refused to let her pay, insisting she came all this way for them all the time and that this was the least they could do, and really she couldn’t argue with that). 

She got them hooked on Lost, which was not her favourite show but certainly an enjoyable one, and she couldn’t help cackling when Bucky demanded episode after episode, forcing the three of them to binge the drama well into the wee hours of the morning. 

The smoke monster had killed another island inhabitant when Darcy dozed off, her head tipping unwittingly into the dense bulk of Bucky’s shoulder. She didn’t notice when he slipped an arm around her, didn’t realize he’d shuffled the pair of them until Bucky was pressed against Steve and Darcy was pressed against Bucky, turning him into a human sandwich. 

Time passed. She couldn’t tell how long she’d been out by the time she reawakened, but it was easy enough to pinpoint _why_ she was up again. 

Somewhere over her head, a man was whimpering, grunting, moaning in protest. 

_“No, no, no,”_ he said over and over. _“Please. No. Please.”_

“Bucky?” Darcy rolled over and out from under his arm. “Steve, wake up.” 

The blond came to with surprising speed, eyes snapping open as though he’d only been pretending. “What is it?” he asked quickly, but there was no need for her to explain. They were on the couch on either side of him, Bucky practically had his head in Steve’s lap. 

“Hey,” Steve murmured, pressing a warm hand against his shoulder, careful but firm. “Buck, it’s Steve and Darcy. You’re okay, pal.” 

“Bucky,” she whispered, tongue swollen in her mouth. It felt hard to breathe. She’d seen Bucky get stiff and uncomfortable before, seen him shut down and retreat to his room to take a break for a bit, but this… Seeing him in pain, this was new. New, and wholly unwelcome. 

Darcy’s fingers slid into his flesh hand, holding it with care. Bucky’s eyes were open, but he didn’t appear to be seeing anything, the whites of his eyes visible in the low light of the television. 

“You’re okay,” she said, just like Steve was saying. “You’re safe. You’re at the Avengers Tower with Steve and me. We were watching Lost on the television. You hate John Locke.”

Her babbling was stupid and inane, but it seemed to help despite all logic suggesting she was being useless. Bucky sat up with a groan, his breathing gradually relaxing into something less frightening and more human. He sounded a bit like he’d just run a race, but at least the stiffness in his limbs was retreating. The death grip on her hand softened as well. 

“Sorry,” he croaked, brushing his thumb over the back of her undoubtedly bruised fingers. Darcy hadn’t noticed his vise-like clutch before, but she was starting to feel it now. 

“S’okay.” Darcy glanced at Steve uncertainly, wondering what she should say. Wondering what she _could_ say. She still hadn’t had the talk yet -- the talk about what the fuck had really happened to Bucky in the seventy years he and Steve had spent apart -- but she knew enough. Steve’s face was filled with a million emotions. Hurt for his friend. Sadness. Guilt. Grief. Anger. Maybe, just maybe, gratefulness as well, for her being there with him, with the both of them. 

“You’re safe, Buck,” was all Steve said. It sounded like he’d done it a million times before, and as much as it soothed Darcy to know Bucky had someone to comfort him, it hurt as well, thinking about all the hurt and pain he suffered through that she hadn’t even _begun_ to understand. 

“Sorry,” Bucky repeated, eyes shut tight. He hadn’t let go of either hand. “Just… Fuck. Gimme a minute. I’ll be okay.” 

“We know,” Darcy said simply, the words rolling off her tongue. She gave his hand a careful squeeze. “You’re okay.” Part of her worried he’d mistake her casual words as dismissal, like she was trying to negate his suffering, but it wasn’t that at all. She wanted more than anything to show him that she knew how strong he was, and that she recognized how badly he’d suffered and could still, despite all odds, function like a normal human being. This, having a nightmare, was such a minor thing compared to what he’d endured, and it certainly wouldn’t be the thing to undo all his hard work. _That’s_ what she’d meant, and perhaps he understood, because he nodded his head, slumping back into the couch. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Yes, you are,” they both said, confident and sure. 

Bucky swallowed. “Did...did I hurt your hand?” he asked, looking at Darcy. 

“No.” At his dubious face, she put on an affronted air and jostled their linked hands insistently. “Who do you think you’re talking to? _I_ tased _Thor_ , a literal _god_. I’m a tough cookie, Bucky. Don’t you worry.” 

“Yeah,” his mouth twitched in his not-quite-there smile. “Don’t I know it.” 

They lapsed into silence after that, Darcy and Steve both letting Bucky get his bearings in comfortable silence. She eyed the metal hand gripping Steve’s, discreetly watched the way Steve’s thumb pressed into the back of Bucky’s neck, the way Steve held him.

 _Oh,_ she thought, a surge of clarity washing over her. **_Oh._ ** She wanted to kick herself. _Duh, Darcy. It’s the love story of the century._

They hadn’t acted on it yet. Darcy was sure of it. The three of them were too close by now to have kept something like that hidden from her. After all, Steve didn’t like secrets at the best of times; she trusted that he wouldn’t have kept something of this magnitude from a friend. And Darcy was pretty sure they were good friends by now. 

Actually, Darcy was  _ pretty  _ sure she’d caught  _ both  _ men staring at her rack on more than one occasion when they thought she wasn’t looking (she was, and she totally loved it. She’d ogled their bums plenty of times in the past, so fair’s fair), but that was irrelevant.

She tilted her head and thought about it at length. She’d played matchmaker in the past before, but this… This felt different. The gears in her head began to turn. 

_ I can do it,  _ she thought. She could  _ absolutely _ get the pair of them to admit their feelings for each other -- it was a Darcy Lewis specialty.


	2. Project SnowShield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the matchmaking commence!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super quick head's up: I tweaked the last three paragraphs of the last chapter. I don't think it's a big deal, but I kinda implied certain things would be happening in this chapter, when they're actually happening *next* chapter. Sooo... Sorry if that's confusing!

**Now presenting:** _The Darcy Lewis Project to Get Steve and Bucky Together_

AKA _Project Winter Soldier and Captain America_

AKA _Project SnowShield_

Attempt #1

No one could ever say that Darcy Lewis did not make a _herculean_ effort to get the ball rolling on Project SnowShield. She figured if she planted the idea in Steve or Bucky’s head, she could sit back and let nature take its course. 

Darcy got her first chance one lazy Sunday afternoon when she found herself lazing about on the couch in their apartment, her feet in Bucky’s lap as they watched an old episode of Jeopardy. Steve and Bucky both liked the show because the premise was easy to follow, but it was also educational and opened up blindspots to things they didn’t know before. 

With Steve in his bathroom grabbing a shower and Bucky relaxed beside her, Darcy saw the window of opportunity and jumped on it.

“Hey.” She nudged him with her big toe. 

Bucky glanced at her from the TV, his hand curled comfortably over her ankle. “Hmm?”

She chose her words with care, though her tone was deliberately casual. Playful, even. “When’s the last time you and Steve went out on the town? Just for fun -- not to save the world or dismantle Hydra or whatever.” 

Bucky thought about it. “Dunno. Why’d ya ask, doll?” 

“You should ask Steve if he wants to go out somewhere, like to the zoo or something,” Darcy suggested, dropping her voice low to avoid the blond overhearing their conspiring. Bucky shrugged. 

“Okay.” And then, before she could say anything, he tilted his head back on the couch to holler down the hall, “Hey, punk! Darce wants to go to the zoo. You in?”

Steve emerged from the bathroom fully dressed with wet hair and looking squeaky-clean. “Okay,” he said with a warm smile, rubbing a hand towel over his freshly shaved face, getting rid of any lingering bits of foamy cream around his ears and jawline. “Sounds fun! Give me ten and we can go.” 

_It all happened so fast!_ Darcy blanked, staring at Bucky in a perfect blend of confusion, horror, frustration and affection. 

His brow furrowed adorably. “What?” 

“Nothing,” she said after a brief pause. “Just realized I...haven’t been to a zoo in ages.”

In the end, Bucky drove them and Steve sat in the back despite Darcy’s attempts to convince him she didn’t mind and that he could have the passenger seat. He chuckled, and all but physically ushered her into her seat, going as far as to pretend to buckle her in before she started smacking at his hands, snapping that she could do it herself. Incidentally, it only made him laugh more.

“Bucky’s right,” she grumbled, doing up her seatbelt. “You _are_ a punk.” Here she was, trying to get them some romantic alone time, and he was making fun of her. _Rude._

The weather stayed nice for most of the trip. Steve and Bucky both balked at the cost of admission to the zoo there, but neither would hear a word about Darcy paying her own way, let alone for the both of them. 

With her first attempt for Project SnowShield an official disaster, Darcy figured she’d just make the most of it instead. She dragged them off to her favourite part of the zoo, undaunted by their sharp and immediate refusal. 

“Darcy, no,” Bucky and Steve both said. 

“Darcy, yes,” she countered, and swiftly pushed them to get in line with her. Old timey music played as they stood in line with a myriad of families with small children. Both men grimaced but caved in the end when they reached their turn, hopping onto the carousel with identical faces of exasperation. 

“Don’t be lame,” she huffed, climbing onto a pony with its head thrown back like it was whinnying. Bucky resolutely stood in front of it, one hand resting on her steed as they watched Captain America mount the horse next to her with a look of contempt. 

“This is ridiculous,” Steve muttered, but the corners of his mouth tugged upwards against his will. The ride started, and Darcy cheered rambunctiously, leaning back and forth in the saddle like she was on a bucking bronco. Bucky pretended to scold her for standing up in the ‘stirrups’ while they were moving.

“You’re gonna set a bad example,” he chided facetiously, smirking. “Steve’s _very_ corruptible, Darcy.” 

“Oh, we mustn’t corrupt the captain,” she agreed, sitting back down. The man in question had his phone out and was, to Darcy’s utter shock, taking their picture. 

“Steve knows how to work a camera phone?” she gasped, delighted.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Respect your elders, ma’am.” 

Darcy happily leaned forward on her horse, letting Bucky wrap an arm around her for the picture. She tried to keep her smile on when Bucky unexpectedly smacked a noisy kiss into her cheek, but she was pretty sure her eyes were a bit too wide to be natural in the photo Steve got. 

After they finished up at the zoo, Darcy suggested renting one of the boats at Loeb Boathouse. She thought it would be funny to order the pair of them to row her around the lake while she kicked back and relaxed, but the joke was on her. Within seconds of boarding, Steve and Bucky decided to have a competition about who could row the fastest. 

“ _So_ relaxing,” Darcy said tightly under her breath. She clutched at the sides of the boat as Bucky’s superhuman strokes of the oars in the water sent their little boat flying, practically launching the boat out of the water with each powerful stroke. _“So_ glad we did this!” 

They made it up to her by taking her out for lunch to end what shaped up to be a pretty pricey date. 

“I do _not_ understand portion sizes these days,” Bucky grumbled, eyeing Darcy’s plate with dismay. She wasn’t a big fan of miniscule portions herself, but this was fancy and the food was fantastic. 

“Rich people ruin everything,” Darcy agreed, stabbing at her salad and shoveling it in her mouth. “But it _is_ delicious.” 

Steve, who was seated next to her at the round table, grinned lasciviously. “Let me try,” he said, and without warning, reached over with his fork to stab at her plate. 

“Hey!” she yelped, elbowing his arm out of the way. He played along, letting her push him aside even though she knew he could’ve easily brushed her away with all the ease of swatting a fly. “This is my lunch! Get your own!” 

But Steve came out victorious with a balsamic-glazed tomato skewered on his fork, which he promptly popped in his mouth. _“Mmmm_ , delicious,” he agreed. 

“One of these days,” Darcy warned. “One of these days, Rogers, I swear. Thor’s gonna get me an Asgardian weapon that can kick your ass. _Then_ you’ll be sorry.” 

“I’m shaking in my boots,” he drawled in a way that was entirely unbecoming for Captain America but was, Darcy had learned, entirely _Steve._

After lunch, they headed back to the Tower, walking side by side. Bucky playfully bumped shoulders with Darcy, then Steve. “This was fun,” he said. “Thanks for suggesting it, doll.” 

“It was, wasn’t it?” Steve perked up. “We should get out more often. Poor Darcy, stuck indoors with two old geezers like us.” 

Bucky dropped an arm around Darcy’s shoulders casually. “Nah,” he said with a grin that knew _way too much._ “She loves us.” 

“I barely tolerate you,” Darcy corrected, staring straight ahead of her and praying neither man questioned why her cheeks were starting to stain pink. 

She wasn’t sure what she’d have said if they asked. 

* * *

_Project SnowShield_

Attempt #2

After Attempt #1 of Project SnowShield turned out to be an unmitigated disaster, Darcy figured she’d put some more planning into Attempt #2, which meant doing some digging about what the boys loved (besides each other, obviously). 

Now, there were three topics that were off-limits in the Barnes-Rogers living quarters during social hours. First and foremost, rather predictably, was Hydra, as neither man had particularly warm and fuzzy experiences with the terrorist organization. That was easy enough for Darcy to avoid.

The second, more confusingly, was Bucky’s hair. Over the period of several months, Darcy had parsed together bits and pieces of information from the boys and from eye-witnesses. From how she understood it, Bucky used to keep his hair cut short and clean as a young man, pre-Hydra. She’s seen the pics. They’re nice pics, anyone would have to agree. But Bucky today, post-Hydra didn’t _want_ to cut his hair, and for some reason was convinced that Steve very much wanted him to. Steve insisted he didn’t care, but it didn’t make a difference. Darcy had no way of confirming or denying anyone’s stance on the matter, since it was, as mentioned, completely off-limits. 

The third and final topic was the ultimate tragedy that befell the Brooklyn Dodgers in 1957, when they moved states and became the Los Angeles Dodgers. 

Darcy mostly instated the off-limits rule for her own benefit, because if she got either man talking about their beloved baseball team and the cruel twist of sending them to that terrible, no-good state of _California_ (their words, not hers), then that’s _all_ she’d be hearing about for the next two hours. Darcy was a good sport about their love of baseball, but there were only so many times she could sit and listen to Steve and Bucky’s lamentations before it got a little much.

No matter how much Steve and Bucky grumbled about their Dodgers’ disappearing act, she knew they both loved the sport and watched it avidly on TV when they could. 

That’s what made Attempt #2 of Project SnowShield so obvious. 

Darcy waltzed into the Barnes-Rogers apartment early on a Saturday morning clutching two tickets behind her back. Steve was sitting on the armchair with a book in hand, looking alert and awake and freshly showered. Contrarily, Bucky only vaguely resembled a living human being, with his hair falling everywhere, shoulders slumped as he sat at the breakfast table and ladled a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, chewing slowly. 

“Good morning,” she sang, dropping into the chair next to Bucky’s. “Aren’t you looking chipper, Buck.” 

The brunette glared at her, grunted like an animal, and went back to eating. 

“Never mind Bucky and his bad manners,” Steve called over from his spot. He tucked his bookmark in where he left off in his book, closed it and set it aside. “How’s it going, Darce?” 

“It’s going.” Her face split into a wide grin. “But I think it’s gonna be going a lot better!” 

Steve strolled over, plainly intrigued. Even Bucky perked up curiously from behind his bowl of cereal. “Has this got anything to do with what you’ve got behind your back?” he asked, mouth half-full.

“As a matter of fact, it _has.”_ With a noisy thud, she whipped her fist out from behind her and slammed it palm-down on the table. “Two tickets to watch the New York Yankees! Tell me you love me!” 

“What?” They both leaned over excitedly to get a look at the seat numbers. Steve gaped. “Darcy, these are great seats! Where did you get them?” 

“I have my ways,” she said smugly. Her ways involved calling in several favors with her uncle, whose best friend held season passes, but that was neither here nor there.

“Wow.” Bucky stared at tickets in awe for a moment, then spooned another mouthful of cereal into his mouth. “So who’re you taking?” 

“What?” She looked up at the two of them, surprised. “No, no. That’s not,” she faltered, chuckling. “I’m _giving_ them to you. The two of you. To have. To go together.” 

Both men stared at her in shock. Steve’s face was hesitant. “You have your own ticket?” 

“No.” She frowned a little. “I don’t really do baseball, as you know. Or, like, sports in general. It’s not my thing.” She pushed the tickets towards them with the tip of her index and middle fingers. “These are for you two. C’mon, you’ll get way more enjoyment out of it than I ever could.” 

“Darce,” Bucky said, looking put out. “You should keep one for yourself at least. Let Stevie go with you. You’ll still have a good time.” 

“Seeing a live game isn’t like watching it on TV,” Steve added encouragingly. “It’d be fun! Take Bucky, he can explain anything you don’t understand.” 

Bucky shook his head. “It should be you to go, Stevie. I know you’ve been wanting to see the stadium.”

“I can see it any old time! You two go. It’s the last home game of the season.”

“But I--”

“Oh my god,” Darcy rolled her eyes. “No. No way. We’re not doing this self-sacrificial thing. Listen to me: _I don’t like baseball._ These are a gift to you guys, okay? You’ll offend me if you don’t accept it.” It was the threat that did it, she could tell. Steve immediately got flustered and Bucky slumped in defeat. 

“Alright, alright…” Bucky hesitantly took one of the tickets in hand. “This is real sweet of ya, Darce.” 

“It is,” Steve murmured, and he took the remaining ticket into his hand. “Thank you.” 

“Nah.” She blushed a little, uncomfortable at the serious way they were both looking at her. “It’s nothing.”

“Hey,” Bucky laid his flesh hand on hers. When she looked at him, she found a heated passion simmering in his blue eyes, bright and unyielding. “It’s _not_ nothing. Not to us.” 

“Buck’s right. This is so special to us.” Steve pocketed the ticket. “I need to meet with Tony for a minute, but you’re hanging around for a bit, right Darce?” 

She pointed finger guns at him. “You betcha.” 

“Good.” Steve hesitated, just long enough for her to wonder what was up, before he leaned down and kissed her quick on the dimple of her cheek. “I’ll be right back. Bucky! Treat her extra special now, y’hear? That means offering refreshments, and putting on some real clothes.” 

Steve left, and Bucky grumbled all the way down the hall to change into _real clothes_ , which Darcy could only assume meant something other than track pants and a tank top. He returned shortly after, and like the gentleman he was, offered her refreshments. Darcy declined. She could barely hear him, so taken aback by the innocent little peck Steve had bestowed on her. Tokens of affection weren’t exactly a rarity with them, but it also didn’t escape her notice that this novel experience came shortly after Bucky’s stunt on the carousel. 

Interesting. Darcy would have to file away that nugget for later.

“No thanks,” she said distractedly. “I’m good.” 

Steve eventually returned, and they spent the morning playing Wii bowling until Darcy had to leave to make her lunch plans with Jane, or else risk facing her friend’s wrath for being late. 

When Darcy did arrive for lunch (two and a half minutes early, _ha,_ take that, Jane), she dropped into her seat across from her best friend with a look of pure victory, waggling her eyebrows at Jane. 

“I did it,” she boasted, after they ordered their lunch.

Jane looked at her from over the rim of her glass, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

“I have arranged for Steve and Bucky to spend an evening together, _outside_ the apartment, just the two of them. They’re going -- get this -- to a baseball game.” Darcy cackled as she squeezed a lemon into her iced tea. “They can reminisce about the past, and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes,” Darcy batted her eyelashes at Jane. “And with any luck, they’ll find an alleyway on the way home and make out like the horny children they secretly are. And then they’ll run home, fall into bed, and Bucky will fuck Steve the way they both deserve.”

Jane swallowed a mouthful of ginger ale. “You’ve got it all planned, I see.” 

“I sure do.” 

Her friend paused in thought. “Wait, _Bucky_ will fuck _Steve_? You sure it isn’t the other way around?” 

Darcy made a face. Oh _please._

The brunette doctor grinned into her drink. “Well, let me know how it goes. I--” they both stopped when Darcy’s phone lit up with a buzz. 

“Sorry, just a sec.” She looked at the name lighting up her screen and laughed. “Well, speak of the devil! Sorry, Janey, just give me one minute.” 

Her best friend nodded, waving her ahead, and Darcy answered Bucky’s call. 

“Hey you,” she said, smiling. “Miss me already?” 

_“Yes,”_ Bucky said with surprising seriousness. 

Darcy tried to chuckle, but it was hard when she could feel her face getting red. Memories of the sweet kiss he’d given her at the zoo still warmed her to her toes. “What’s up, buttercup?” 

_“Do you have plans tonight?”_ He sounded oddly shy asking. 

“No,” she said slowly. “But _you_ do, remember? You, Steve and two tickets to a great game?”

_“Actually, it’s three tickets.”_

Darcy’s heart flipped. “What??”

 _“Yeah, uh,”_ he was grinning now, she could hear it in his voice. _“Steve talked to Stark. He pulled some strings and got us another ticket right next to our seats. So now we can all go.”_

Safe where Bucky couldn’t see her, she dropped her head into her hand and rubbed at her temples. Her eyes landed on Jane’s phone, sitting face up on the table. 

An hour.

It had been one measly hour since she gave them the tickets, and they’d somehow managed to derail her plans that quickly.

“Oh. _Buck…_ ” Darcy struggled with an appropriate response. She knew she couldn’t call him a boob, but at the same time, she very much wanted to call him a boob. “That’s… You didn’t have to do that. I wanted you two to have a nice time together.”

 _“And we will,”_ Bucky said confidently. _“With you. C’mon, Darce. Say you’ll come.”_

She could hear Steve yelling in the background. _“We won’t take no for an answer!”_

With a laugh that was equal parts frustrated and terribly, exceedingly _fond_ of them, Darcy said, “Okay, okay. I’ll be there.” 

_“Great. Pick you up at six.”_

He hung up.

“Those two,” Darcy began lowly. “Those... _idiots._ Those sweet, perfect idiots!” 

Jane jerked in surprise. “What, what happened?” 

Darcy glared at her phone. “They think they can best me?? They better guess again! I’m gonna have to step up my game, that’s what.” 

* * *

_Project SnowShield_

Attempt #3

“I don’t understand. Is there a reason that you cannot offer these to the Captain and his shieldmate yourself, Darcy?”

Out of love for her brother in arms and his big, kind heart, Darcy refrained from stomping her feet in frustration, but it was a near thing.

“I don’t want them to try and invite me or give me one of their seats. This is for _them._ But if _I_ try and give them the reso,” Darcy pointed to herself with both hands, “They’ll find a way to drag me along.” 

The blond nodded pensively. She thought that was the end of it, until he furrowed his thick brow and said slowly, uncertainly, “And that would be...bad?” 

_“Yes,_ only because I want them to go do this together. Sans Darcy. I crash way too much of their alone time as is. Ya feel me, big guy?” 

But it was apparent that Thor did not, in fact, 'feel her,' as his frown grew deeper. “Darcy, I assure you the Captain and his companion feel great fondness for you. I do not believe they would consider your presence to be _crashing their alone time.”_

Maybe they wouldn’t, but _Darcy_ would. Case in point: the track record of Project SnowShield. First the failed date to the zoo, then the disastrous baseball ticket scenario. 

To be fair, the game was a blast. Steve sat in the middle (they had tried to make Darcy sit there, but she refused to self-sabotage her own efforts so spectacularly), and he kept her entertained by explaining what the players were doing, while Bucky angrily huffed about what the players _should_ be doing. At one point, he sounded so genuinely disgusted with something a player did, she startled the family sitting next to them from how loud she laughed. The game ended up being close to three hours long, but it wasn’t nearly as boring as she’d thought it would be, between Bucky and Steve’s antics and the amount of snacks they plied her on. 

It was fun, and Darcy loved spending time with them both, but her presence most indisputably put the kibosh on any smooching or love confessions, which is how she ended up plotting with Jane on the phone later that week about Attempt #3. (Or rather, she plotted _at_ Jane, who mostly made vague noises of agreement and interest as Darcy spewed).

“Maybe it can’t be something discussed beforehand. Maybe… Maybe it has to be kinda sprung on them, with me nowhere in sight.” 

Jane’s voice was bland and dry. “ _Maybe_ you should stop interfering and let two grown men figure this out themselves.” 

Darcy wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Ugh, you sound like my mother. Steve and Bucky deserve to have the satisfying resolution their epic century-old romance has been building to. They’re just...too dang blind to see it.” 

“Still think this is a bad idea, for the record.”

“Okie dokie. Well, thanks for your help, Janey!” 

_“Bad. Idea.”_

“Hanging up now, byeeeee.” 

In the end, Darcy came up with a truly cunning, miraculous plan that involved a dinner reservation at an old Italian place in Brooklyn that claimed to have roots dating back to the 30s. Reviews pegged it as elegant and charming, with sublime dishes at an affordable price, all set in a very romantic atmosphere. 

Perfect.

Making the reservation was the simple part. A little hacking on their online reso calendar, and the six-month wait period was cut down to 24 hours. Easy peasy. 

It was the execution that was challenging.

“Thor,” Darcy whined, on her last limb with this. She’d risk approaching Tony next if the god remained clueless. “Please. Please just...give them the name of the restaurant. Tell them it’s in Brooklyn, and tell them you and Jane can’t make it because Jane’s working late. Please, can you do that?” She batted her eyes hopefully at him, hands clasped before her chest like a doe-eyed schoolgirl. 

“Of course I shall.” He set a benevolent hand on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll not breathe your name the entire conversation.” 

“Yes,” Darcy sagged in relief. “Yes, awesome. Thank you! You’re the best, big guy.” 

Darcy made a point of not being around the rest of the day, ducking out early to go back to her apartment she still shared with Jane. Jane was definitely moving in with Thor soon, likely at the start of the new year, so Darcy supposed she had until then to figure out living plans, since she didn’t very well fancy bunking with her best friend and her best friend’s very loud, very _passionate_ boyfriend. 

A call later that day confirmed Thor had succeeded in handing off the reservations to Steve, who had been gracious but also, according to Thor, rather startled by Thor’s insistence Steve go and take his shieldmate with him for a nice night on the town. 

The night of their special dinner came. The night went. 

Darcy didn’t dare bring it up with either super soldier, but she watched the two of them like hawks in the next few weeks, keeping a close eye on any indication that their relationship had changed. 

They still smiled at each other. They still teased. They joked and bantered, and ruffled each other’s hair in a way that Darcy probably shouldn’t have cooed over but most definitely did. 

And yet… 

“Nothing’s changed!” Darcy burst, complaining to--who else--Jane at work one day, three weeks after roping Thor into doing her bidding. “They’re just like... _sweet_ to each other. But they don’t hold hands or kiss or grope each other.” Darcy pouted. “I don’t think the dinner worked.” 

Jane, scribbling something down on a clipboard, paused what she was doing. “Did you consider that this is really hard for them?” 

“Huh? What’s hard?” 

“You know.” Jane finished what she was writing down and set the clipboard aside. “Being with a man.” 

Darcy took the page Jane had been writing on off the clipboard and slid it into the binder of notes. She frowned unhappily. “But I showed them several movies with gay leads and they liked it! They don’t have a problem with it!” 

“Not saying they have a problem with gay people,” Jane said calmly. She’d resumed working on the contraption, her fingers flicking at a switch that didn’t appear to be working. “But it’s not like this was something that was talked about in their time.” 

“Jane.” Darcy rolled her eyes to the point it almost hurt. “Gay people existed in the 30s.”

“Yeah,” the astrophysicist scoffed. “Along with rampant internalized homophobia and discrimination.” 

Hmm. 

Well, she had a point. 

“Not to mention,” Jane continued. “You’re asking them to make a leap from being the closest friends imaginable, to becoming romantic, sexual partners. Maybe they don’t think it’s worth the risk.” Jane leaned in to look closer at the contraption she was focused on. She reached in to fiddle with a couple wires, muttering to herself, “Need something to...reduce pressure...”

Darcy’s ears perked at that. “Reduce pressure?” Darcy turned the idea over in her head. “Like a way they can do a trial run to see what it’s like?”

“Huh?” The doctor blinked at her, bewildered. “What? No. No, I was talking about this stupid thing.” She pointed at the machine and scowled at it, unimpressed. 

Darcy ignored her, staring off into nothing as her mind raced. “Actually… You might be onto something there.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I am flattered as heck by the response to chapter one. Truly. I'm blessed. 
> 
> Next chapter is...THE SMUT. The smut-tening? Smut-tastic? Smut-zilla? Idk sex is in the next chap. 
> 
> It's almost done! I'm a little paranoid because I haven't posted smut online in a grip, but I am truthfully quite excited to share it. Hopefully doesn't disappoint.
> 
> Thanks again for reading! 
> 
> PS, I am extremely paranoid about making Stucky too oblivious to each other's feelings in a way that's unbelievable. I don't want anyone to think I'm discrediting their relationship or anything of the sort. My rationale, and this is just my limited experience, is that I, a modern-day bisexual woman raised in a religious household, had a very hard time getting over my own internalized misogyny and homophobia to date women. I would assume it's not a far leap to think it would be doubly difficult for two men from the 40s. 
> 
> Not to mention, I have been in the position of having romantic feelings for my best friend but decided in the end, it wasn't worth the risk of losing their friendship. 
> 
> And also, besides all that, this is fanfiction! If Steve and Bucky got together on their own, this story wouldn't exist lol.


	3. Happy New Years

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A New Year's Eve party is had, followed by masterful seduction, then porn, porn and more porn. 
> 
> Amen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would apologize for taking so long (way longer than I thought I would), but this is 12K words of WinterShieldShock coming straight at you, so... I don't feel so bad, hahaha.
> 
> Please forgive the very long A/N at the end. 
> 
> xoxo, Portia

There was one thing Darcy had learned since becoming acquainted with the Avengers: Tony Stark didn’t do anything by halves. 

The New Years Eve party at the tower was invite-only, limited to Avengers & Co., something that now included Darcy -- and wasn’t  _ that  _ just the strangest thing? Time at the tower told Darcy that the Avengers collected strays left, right and center. As such, she was surrounded by a sea of faces she knew all had to do with at least one member of the Avengers crew. 

The party was spread out over two floors, way up in the tower, at the kind of height that made the city lights sparkle way down below. The lower floor was dedicated to eating and mixing and mingling, with tables set up and a large bar planted in the center. She had it on good authority that Tony had brought in several top of the line chefs to do specialty dishes, including an extremely entertaining teppanyaki station that fried the food before your eyes. There were all sorts of party gimmicks around. A photo booth, a backdrop with a trunk of corny props to wear, an onsite masseuse offering free foot massages, and a live band stationed in the far corner of the room. 

A waiter, dressed in the red and gold uniform for the evening, approached her with a smile. “Champagne, ma’am?” 

Darcy plucked up the offered flute with pinched fingers and a pleased hum. 

“Don’t mind if I do.” 

Jane went off to find Thor early on, leaving Darcy to wander about after being reassured she’d be fine on her own. “No, really,” Darcy had insisted. “Go get your man, girl.” She couldn’t do what she was planning with Jane hanging around to watch, anyways. 

Darcy hadn’t gotten three steps from the doorway before she was accosted -- politely, but accosted nonetheless -- by one Pepper Potts. She’d met the powerhouse woman only once in the past, and mostly in passing. Miss Potts embodied a singular, rare brand of strength, which Darcy had practically assumed, considering the woman put up with Tony Stark on the daily.

“Miss Lewis, you look lovely.” 

“Darcy, please. And you as well, Miss Potts.” Indeed, Darcy had never once spotted the woman looking anything short of elegance embodied. She walked like silk, smooth and self-assured, cradling her glass of wine in a way that Darcy so wished she could do, casual and oddly sensual. Her bright red lipstick parted in a smile, revealing straight white teeth that practically glowed in the dark lighting of the party. 

She was magnificent.

“Just Pepper,” she corrected kindly, leading them over to a raised table barely big enough to rest drinks on and nothing more. “How are you liking the city?” 

Darcy assumed she was supposed to exclude the attempted alien invasion back from when she first moved here as part of her assessment. “It’s great. Land of opportunities, and all that. I know you’ve had a big hand in helping Jane and I get settled. We really appreciate it.” 

Pepper waved a manicured hand. “It was my pleasure. Tony wanted me to leave it to him, but honestly I was scared where he’d stick you if I didn’t step in.” 

“Well,” Darcy grinned, “I appreciate it. It’s great.” 

The older woman’s smile turned a bit contemplative. “How much do you like it?” 

“Sorry?” 

“I have a proposition for you,” she continued over a glass of wine. “Dr Foster let slip that you’re looking for gainful employment the other day.” 

“She did? Ugh, what a gossip, so tasteless,” Darcy jokingly huffed, thinking back on all the times she'd begged her friend to let it slip to Tony or another Stark employee that she was looking for a job.

The CEO of Stark Industries smiled. “I have it on good authority you’ve done your share of internships in the past.”

“That I have,” Darcy grimaced, thinking about her extended internship with Jane and the adventures they’d shared, both the boring and the extraordinarily dangerous. “Some more life-threatening than others.” 

“Well, I’ve just been told we’re hiring a program coordinator for the Stark Industries internship program. I’m hopeful this position would rank significantly  _ lower _ on the life-threatening scale, not to mention it comes with a monthly paycheck. Is it something you’d be open to?”

Darcy sputtered through a few random sounds. “Pf-- I-- gn--  _ yes!”  _ She nodded wildly. “Yes, god. I love money. Would love to earn some one day.” 

“Excellent,” she enthused, procuring a phone from somewhere on her body and tapping rapidly away. “I’ll have my assistant send some times for you to come in so we can discuss it further.” 

“Thank you,” said Darcy, stunned and a bit ecstatic. She thought she might burst out of her skin. “Thank you so much, Miss Potts!” 

“It’s Pepper, and thank  _ you _ , Darcy. I’ve heard only good things.” 

She waited until Pepper had disappeared into the sea of people to go off in search of her favourite men.

Excited as she was at the prospect of gainful employment, Darcy fought the giddiness back with determination. This was it. Tonight was the night she’d set all her thought-out plans into motion, the night she’d bridge the gap between Steve and Bucky and help them get together once and for all. 

And hey, if it meant getting some action for herself, that didn’t hurt either. 

Jane had told her off thoroughly for her plan. “This has  _ bad idea _ written all over it,” she said, watching Darcy paint her face with foundation and contouring palettes earlier that evening. 

“You were the one who suggested it!” she protested. 

Jane sputtered defensively. “Oh god, I meant like -- send them for a cup of coffee instead of the most romantic dinner in the city.” 

“They need a little nudge,” Darcy had insisted, drawing a line under her cheekbone moving back towards her ear. “And I’m gonna provide it to them.” 

“And then?” Jane demanded. “You’re gonna ruin your friendship with both of them all because you think they’re too incompetent to get together themselves.” 

“No, and  _ then _ ...” Darcy trailed off, then shook her head. “And then that’s it. I duck out in the morning, Steve and Bucky realize their feelings for each other and live happily ever after, and I get to claim to have had a threesome with the sexiest men on the planet. Everybody wins.”

Jane stared at her in disbelief. “Again.  _ Bad idea.  _ All over this.” 

But all of Jane’s well-intended cautioning went out the window when Darcy clapped eyes on the men in question. It wasn’t hard to find them, but it  _ was  _ a challenge to not fall over at the sight. Steve was dressed in a tux in a hue of blue so dark, it was verging on black. He partnered it with a pale blue shirt and dark tie. The clothes were fitted so perfectly to him, Darcy assumed he’d had them tailored at some point, likely thanks to the intervention of either Tony or Natasha. He stood by the bar with his hands in his pockets, jacket unbuttoned, relaxed and carefree. 

Next to Steve, Bucky was head to toe in black. Black jacket, black shirt, black pants. No tie, but that didn’t matter. He still looked like he’d just gotten off the set of a high-end photoshoot. He’d even brushed his hair back, though it was long as ever, coming to the nape of his neck. 

By the time they spotted her, she was already making her way over to them, beaming. Her good mood only escalated at the look on their faces; twin expressions of gobsmack wonder, like they’d been bewitched. 

“Darce,” Bucky greeted, blinking. He held out a hand to her and coaxed her to twirl around for them. Like a ballerina on pointe, she rotated on the spot, arms aloft. “God, look at you, doll.” 

“You like?” Darcy playfully swished the skirt of her dress about. She wore a dark blue knee-length dress that accentuated her curves-for-days body in all the right ways. She’d spent a good twenty minutes in front of the mirror beforehand, twisting and turning to look at herself from every angle possible, until Jane had rolled her eyes and dragged her out the door by the hand. 

When Bucky looked at her, he made her feel like her skin was on fire. Like she was nothing but kindling, and he was the spark. “I like,” he agreed in a gravelly murmur, stone on steel, before literally handing her to Steve to say hello, laying her fingers in his friend’s like she was something precious to be treasured. 

If Bucky made her feel like she was aflame, Steve turned her to liquid, a tumultuous sea of crashing waves and brewing tsunamis. He looked at her like he wanted to  _ drown _ in her. 

“You look beautiful.” He spoke without hesitation or deliberation, such that it nearly floored her. The man wasn’t exactly known for being eloquent with women, and yet here she was, stumbling over her own two feet before him. 

“Thank you.” It was a struggle to find her balance, off-kilter as she was by their eager welcomes. On a whim, she reached up to tweak the blond’s chin coyly. “Not so bad yourself, tiger.” 

While Steve blushed to the tips of his ears and Bucky pretended not to laugh, Darcy blazed a trail to the nearest empty table, dropping her purse into it.

“Jane’s already ditched me for Thor, and I don’t expect to be reuniting with her until a shamefully late hour tomorrow, so you’re both my dates for the night. Get it?” 

“Got it,” Steve grinned, as his friend slung his flesh arm across the back of her chair casually. “You want something to drink?” 

They spent close to an hour at the table just chatting, with Steve and Bucky recounting old New Year’s celebrations they’d shared, skipping the sadder tales for more lively, upbeat stories about making something out of nothing in the 40s. Like always, they kept her laughing, drawing her in closer and closer to soak in their tales like a sponge. After an hour, she was leaning so far forwards, bending towards them in her eagerness to hear all she could, she was practically bowing into Bucky’s side. 

When she’d had quite enough of sitting and talking, Darcy set out to check the area for an activity that was less threatening to Steve than the dreaded dancefloor. The answer was stashed away in the far corner of the room, and her eyes lit up in victory. “I want to get our picture taken!” she declared loudly, dragging Bucky up by the hand. When Steve made as though to stay put, she caught him by the bicep, copping a casual feel. “You too! Let’s go.” 

They bypassed the garish backdrop with all the odds and sods and made for the photobooth instead, with a large red swath of fabric draped over the side to keep it private. 

“Me in the middle!” she sang, unapologetically shoving Steve in first before following after him. Inside the booth, the three were sardines stuffed into a tin can, especially considering the soldiers were bulky to begin with, but after some shuffling that resulted in Darcy sitting on Steve’s lap and Bucky saddled up next to them, it worked. 

Darcy wrapped her arm around Steve’s neck and draped her legs over Bucky’s knees. 

“Should we decide on poses first?” When both men blinked at her in confusion, she nearly clapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh! Have you not done one of these before?” 

“Can’t say I have.” Bucky’s voice was all drawl, smooth and sultry, which was how she knew he was feeling a bit shy. 

“It’s easy. We’re gonna push that button when we’re ready, and then it’s gonna take four pictures, one after the other. It’ll give us a few seconds in between each photo so we gotta be quick.” 

“Too much work,” Bucky said eventually. “Just do whatever feels right, doll.” 

_ Well, that’s way too much freedom to be given. _

“Okay, ready? Three, two, one!” Darcy smushed her cheek against Steve’s for the first one, flung her head back theatrically for the second, beaming cheek to cheek all the while, and made a kissy face while holding Bucky’s chin for the third. For the last picture, she shouted, “Sexy faces!” Except then she saw in the display screen that Steve had gone scarlet, and she had no idea what any of them looked like in the final shot -- her eyes were closed from laughing so hard.

They stumbled out of the booth like a dozen clowns emerging from a pint-sized car, and Darcy giddily yanked the photo booth pictures out the second they were done printing. 

“We are  _ exquisite,”  _ Darcy gasped, examining them closely. “Like! Look at this!” She shoved the slip right up under Steve’s nose and held it there. “Bee-oo-ti-full!” 

“Yes, I see,” he said, chuckling as he gently pushed her hand back down. 

“No, I’m serious, I think there’s laws about this kind of thing,” she said, fanning herself.  _ “Two  _ people that look this good are cause for catastrophe, but three?” She whistled and shook her head. “Disastrous. Pure chaos.” 

“That’s your slogan, ain’t it, doll?” Bucky handed her another glass of whatever was circling around the room.  _ “Pure chaos.” _

Darcy tipped her head back and let out a throaty laugh. “Oh shit, you caught me.”

With some coaxing, coercing and downright demanding, Darcy and Bucky finagled Steve into joining them in their venture to the floor above, where the dancing was said to be taking place. She had a good idea of what it would look like, just based on what the dining hall resembled. Part of her felt guilty for shoving Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes into the heart-pounding, sweaty, sexy, bump-and-grind scene she was anticipating, but she was too giddy to stop herself. 

Turns out her fears were unfounded. 

When they arrived on the upper floor, they were greeted not by a cluster of dancing, but by the sight of the god of thunder himself standing on a stage, mic in hand as he bellowed the words to some unknown Asgardian legend. The hired live band, obviously hijacked by the god’s purposes, strummed along with poorly-concealed looks of panic and uncertainty. 

Most of the Avengers had gravitated upstairs by now, with it being so close to midnight. Through the dim lights, Darcy spotted Natasha and Laura, Clint’s wife, making fun of the archer as he did a dramatically slow version of the macarena to Thor’s epic. Sam Wilson had an arm around his date while they watched Thor mime fight moves along to the words of the legend he spouted. Meanwhile, lost in their own little world, Wanda and Vision were spinning away on the edge of the dance floor (literally floating, Vision holding the pair aloft) as Tony, wearing no less than three party hats and five leis, lounged by Thor’s feet with a beer in each hand, either entranced by his shouting or too drunk to move. 

Jane, Darcy saw with delight, was hovering by her boyfriend’s shoulder, grimacing, half-shielding her face, nodding and smiling awkwardly in support of him whenever he turned to look at her.

“Wow.” Darcy stood motionless at the entranceway, an arm looped through both her soldiers’ bent elbows. “This was  _ so _ not what I expected.” 

“You mean you didn’t expect to hear epic Asgardian love poetry sung by Thor?” Steve asked mildly.

Bucky choked. “That’s singing?” 

Her brain felt a bit scrambled. She wasn’t drunk, but she was tipsy, and it was making it hard to remember that she had a plan _.  _ A plan which, in hindsight, felt a little ridiculous. She couldn’t very well seduce the pair of them here, surrounded by their extremely nosy, incredibly observant team mates. 

“Hey.” She slipped out of their grasp, and wheeled around to face the pair of them. “Crazy idea. Wanna go back to your place and watch TV instead?” 

* * *

The vote was unanimous.  Safe in their apartment, Darcy cleared her throat, walking over to stand in front of their TV like she was gearing up for a presentation. She gestured to the couch graciously. “Have a seat, gents.”

They obeyed, albeit cautiously. “Should we be afraid?” Bucky asked, sprawling his limbs out.

“Of course not. Hush.” She propped her hands on her hips. “Now, I’ve been saving this movie for a long, long time now, but it’s high time you boys saw it. It is my  _ favourite  _ movie, and if you don’t like it, you better prepare yourselves to lie to my face afterwards, seeing as not everyone in this room has a great poker face…. Steve, I’m looking at you, bud.” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m sure we’ll love it.” Him and Bucky both sat down on opposite ends of the couch, leaving a comfortable-sized gap for her.  _ Excellent _ , she wouldn’t have to do any weird maneuvering then.

“Friday, cue it up.” She clambered over to drop into the cushions between them, kicking off her heels and letting them land where they may. She’d just gotten comfy when the opening notes of Lord of the Rings began to play. 

“Oh, I know this one!” Steve pointed at the screen excitedly. “That’s the guy who wrote the Hobbit! Sam mentioned that he wrote more books after, but Bilbo’s not-”

Darcy shushed him urgently. “Ah ah ah!  _ Focus _ , Rogers. Movie’s starting.” 

And over the next thirty minutes, Darcy delighted in letting them grow increasingly hooked by the story and cinematic experience of Lord of the Rings. Bilbo had his birthday party and Frodo danced with the other hobbits. Darcy had seen this movie no less than twenty times in her lifetime, and even now, it was as easy as breathing to slip back into Tolkien’s world, sinking further and further into the couch as she watched. 

Curling into Steve was a deliberate choice on her part, one she thought about beforehand. For one thing, the Captain was a tactile human being by nature. For another, by her best estimates, he would be the harder of the two to win over tonight.

Like an earthworm wriggling about in the wet soil of a garden, Darcy shifted this way and that, subtly at first, but with increasing impatience. Restless and huffing. It wasn’t even five minutes of her moving this way and that before a large palm settled on her hip. “Hey squirmy,” Steve murmured lowly. “You need some help?” His voice was a rumble against her ear before he shifted Darcy around until she was on her side, her torso curled up in his arms, legs stretched out into Bucky’s lap. She wiggled her toes into his belly and got pinched in return. 

“Hey!” she pouted. Bucky just raised an unsympathetic eyebrow in return.

“Better?” Steve was cradling her so she could face the TV.

Better? This was  _ perfect _ . She couldn’t have planned it better herself. 

It was a struggle to stay awake for the entirety of the film, as much as she adored seeing Viggo Mortensen hunt and kill orcs in between expressing his ardent love for Liv Tyler, who was a true queen among men. But she made it all the way to the end of the film, enjoying the way both men grew further and further entranced by the story. 

They both protested loudly when Gandalf fell off the bridge in Moria to his death. “No! He  _ dies?”  _ Steve was stunned, his voice vaguely accusatory. “But--But he’s the best character!” 

She didn’t respond, smiling smugly into the arms cradling her. But when the final battle came, and Boromir made his last stand to protect Merry and Pippin, she cleared her throat and rolled over, face into the warm, relaxed belly of Steve Rogers. 

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna watch?” he asked, poking at her lightly. 

“No.” Her answer was short and final.  _ No thanks _ , she’d seen Boromir’s death scene more times than she could stomach. They could endure this part on their own.

And endure it they did, with Bucky clearing his throat suspiciously when Borormir called Aragorn his captain and his king. Steve sniffed overhead.

By the time the end credits rolled around, Darcy was nuzzling her cheek into Steve’s chest, face angled so she could watch Bucky as she did. It took some time, but eventually he must’ve felt her eyes on him, for Bucky turned to meet her gaze with a curious tilt of his chin. 

She stared back at him, saying nothing. The dark haired man quirked an eyebrow at her, the flick of a cat moving its tail. She smiled at his intrigue in the dim light of the TV.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, dazed, oblivious to the silent conversation going on around him. His hand curled around her back and rubbed slowly along her spine as he spoke. He hadn’t said anything about her practically mashing her face into his chest, but she thought she felt his breathing speed up a fraction.

“Amazing,” Darcy agreed in a purr. Bucky ignored his friend, Adam’s apple bobbing with a swallow as she slipped the tips of her toes into the button-down shirt he wore, sliding the top of her manicured foot against his belly. 

His hand clamped down on her ankle, holding her there. The look on his face was nothing but a warning, cautioning her without words that she was playing with fire tonight. 

Deliberately, daringly, Darcy wiggled her toes once more against his belly. 

In the same breath, she twisted her head to face Steve’s chest and brushed her nose back and forth over his body. Being held by him felt like being swaddled in a weighted blanket. His arms molded to her body just right, contouring around her figure, supporting her neck like she was a newborn babe. 

Steve was definitely breathing quicker now. He raised a large palm to smooth over her curls, striving to sound concerned. “Darcy? You okay?” 

“Mhmm,” she said sweetly. “You smell nice.” 

“That’s - thanks, Darce.” Steve was starting to sound increasingly worried. “I, uh, think maybe we should...get you a ride…”

Darcy began to laugh into his chest, flustering him further. “Home,” he added hastily. “Get you a ride home. Uh...” His voice trailed away as Darcy sat up, withdrawing her feet from Bucky’s lap to swing a knee over the blond’s narrow hips, straddling him. 

She could look Steve in the eye now, and as she’d expected, he was showing resistance to her plan (unlike Bucky, who was sitting back on the couch and watching with a burning curiosity, something she would maybe even call  _ hunger _ ). 

“I don’t want to go home,” Darcy said in a voice pitched low, smoothing her palms over the broadness of Steve’s chest. 

“You’re drunk.” Rough palms held her by the shoulders, keeping her a safe distance from him. “You’ll regret this in the morning, Darce. You can stay in my bed. I’ll… I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

“No one’s sleeping on the couch,” she said calmly, staying put. Bucky hadn’t moved either. “And I’m not drunk. I was barely tipsy at the party, and that was three hours ago. I’m  _ super _ sober now. I can demonstrate if it makes you feel better.” 

His lips parted in a silent gasp, jaw hanging open. She could see the thoughts swirling in his pretty blond head, doubt and desire warring with one another. 

Darcy canted her hips forward slightly under the guise of getting comfortable. A strange rumbling echoed in the air, and she realized Steve had actually  _ growled  _ at her before grasping her hips and yanking her as close to him as she could get while wearing clothes. Something hard and swollen bumped up between her legs, grinding against her just right as Steve discreetly thrust upwards while dragging her ever closer. 

“Darce,” he whispered at the same time. “We shouldn’t. It’s…” His eyes roved wildly like a caged stallion, finding Bucky for the first time since she began to outright touch him. Steve lurched, like he’d forgotten the other man was sitting right there, boldly watching them rut against one another. 

“Shit,” Steve swore, pushing at Darcy. “No, Darcy, we can’t. We  _ can’t _ .” Did he know how miserable he sounded at having to deny her? It made her smile wickedly in his neck, where she’d buried her face and refused to come up for air. 

“We can,” she mumbled, mouthing at the skin of his neck, freshly washed and shaved, the scent of his cologne buried deep in his skin. He smelt  _ divine _ . 

“Buck… Buck’s here.” 

At his words, Darcy reached out to the brunet and blindly clutched at his arm, dragging him close. “I know he is. We’re not gonna leave him out, don’t worry.”

“...What?” 

Bucky huffed in amusement. “I think Darcy means to ring in the new year with both of us, punk.” 

Steve’s eyes skittered back and forth from one to the other, bright blue eyes wide with trepidation. “People don’t do this,” he blurted, panicked. Darcy stroked at his chest soothingly, trying not to get too wrapped up in how good he felt under her hands in the face of his burgeoning discomfort. 

“Yes, they do.” Her voice was the soft whispers of a woman coaxing a spooked horse. “It’s not wrong to want to feel good, Steve. I wanna make you and Bucky feel good.” 

“What about the team?” 

The question felt a bit non-sequitur, but she knew what he was getting at. She shrugged. “Whatever happens tonight isn’t any business of theirs. No one needs to know.” 

“No, but… It’s-” He was struggling to speak, tongue tied in a million ways. Darcy was patient, touching him as she waited. Bucky was thankfully silent from his spot on the couch. “Three people… It ain’t right, Darce. You don’t gotta feel sorry for me or anything-”

“Who said anything about feeling sorry for you?” she asked, ignoring the way his Brooklyn accent that seemed to be coming out in full force the more flustered he became. “I want to fuck you, and I want to fuck Bucky.”  _ And you want to fuck each other,  _ she left unsaid. “This is my body. So long as I’m not forcing anyone and no one’s forcing me, there’s nothing wrong with what I’m suggesting.” 

Steve couldn’t look at her. “You and Buck… You’re my best friends.” He met her gaze boldly. “I can’t lose that.” 

“Hey.” Darcy took his face between her hands. “You’ll  _ never  _ lose my friendship. This - having sex - doesn’t change that, okay? And I’m pretty sure you could kill everyone in this tower twice over and Bucky would still follow you into battle, so… There’s that.” 

Bucky shrugged. “It’s true.” He patted Darcy’s bum in Steve’s lap. “Everyone but Darcy, of course.” 

Darcy smiled at him, but Steve still looked so unsure, so nervous. His eyes skittered from Darcy’s face to Bucky’s, who was busy studying them with dark, hooded eyes. In a stroke of lightning, she understood what Steve was worried about, what he’d been too scared to voice all along. 

Without looking or talking, she lifted one of her hands from Steve’s face and reached out, miming grabby hands to Bucky. He obeyed, sliding over until her palm bumped his shoulder and her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, latching on, holding him close to them both.

“I’ve already said what I want.” She stroked Steve’s hair at the nape of his neck. “Tell me what  _ you _ want. Tell me to stop and I’ll stop. No questions, no hard feelings. Don’t hesitate, just say what you want.”

Without answering, Steve swallowed and glanced at his oldest friend once more. In Bucky’s eyes, she saw the decisiveness and reassurance Steve so desperately craved. 

“I don’t really know what I wanted before I became the Winter Soldier,” the soldier said quietly. “But I know what I want right now.” 

Steve brought Darcy to his chest, holding on tight with one hand. The other sat inconspicuously on the couch between the two men, palm up, an invitation if she ever saw one. “And what’s that?” 

No one spoke for a moment. Bucky traced his fingers up Darcy’s bare arm, walking the tips over her shoulder teasingly. Then he laced his hand with Steve’s open palm. “This. You. Both’a ya. I want… Jesus, I want  _ both _ of ya so damn bad, I can hardly see straight.” 

“Me too,” Steve said in a small voice. “God, I didn’t--I didn’t know we could…” 

Darcy felt herself start to smile, which was spotted and answered in kind by both her boys. 

“Darce,” Steve whispered, voice thick with some emotion she couldn’t quite decipher. “Darcy, honey.” His hand slid into the hair at the nape of her neck, drawing her close enough that she could spot droplets of sweat beading on his upper lip. Then he was kissing her, a warm and wet slide of his tongue into her mouth. She could taste the alcohol, the fiery remnants of the Asgardian mead he’d drunk that night, and under that, she could taste Steve Rogers. His mouth, his skin, his hot and sticky breath. She could feel the texture of his tongue and the plush curve of his lips. His mouth opened to hers, yielding without a fight, and the rub of his beard on her skin nearly undid her on the spot.

“Steven,” she choked, overcome with the sharpness of her desire. Both hands tangled in his hair as her mouth massaged his. God, she wanted him. She wanted to climb inside him in all the impossible ways. She wanted to devour and be devoured in return.

“Fuck,” she heard Bucky say in a strangled sort of whimper. Their lips disconnected with a wet pop, and before anyone could do anything, she leaned over and kissed Bucky too. 

Maybe it was the alcohol that made him relaxed, maybe it was muscle memory from his days before Hydra took him. Whatever it was, the man knew how to lay a wet one on a gal. 

Bucky’s head tilted to the side as he crowded in on the pair of them. Even with her eyes closed, Darcy could feel Steve winding one arm around Darcy and the other slowly,  _ tentatively _ , around Bucky. The Winter Soldier didn’t so much as flinch at the touch, pressing his face against hers with an insistency that left her gasping for air. 

She knotted her fingers in his hair and held on tight, gripping shamelessly with a strength that verged on yanking. Unbothered by her roughness, Bucky moaned at the sensation, the reverberations of sound fluttered into her mouth. His technique was more experienced, more confident. He pushed and pulled, sliding back from her just enough to release pressure from her mouth, never breaking away until a lack of oxygen necessitated it. 

“James,” she moaned practically into his mouth. “Oh god.” He didn’t pause after stopping their kiss, curling his head to plant a few more kisses over her neck. The wet smack of lips on skin was utterly filthy and loud in the silent apartment, punctuated by her own whimpers. 

When he began to stop, she quieted, opening her eyes and turning her attention to Steve.  _ Right,  _ she thought to herself.  _ The plan.  _ There was one more thing to be done before they could move the party to a bedroom, one more barrier to break. 

Darcy had never really been one for watching gay porn before. She understood the appeal and all, celebrated it wholeheartedly, but she usually liked to have at least one woman in the picture (ideally two, to tell the truth). 

But holy fuck, she liked it now. 

Watching the soldiers kiss would go down in Darcy’s history as the hottest, sexiest kiss of all time. Hotter than any celebrity kiss. Hotter than any x-rated film she’d seen. Way hotter than any of Jane and Thor’s reunion kisses, that was for sure. 

They kissed with all the understanding of two people who know each other like the back of their own hand, two people who had gone to hell and back for each other. And sure, Darcy was a bit jealous, but it wasn’t really of either man, more what they shared. How well they knew one another from that first kiss, and on. 

Then they both turned to her, hungry eyes flashing at her in the darkness. She felt like the hunter become the hunted, and oh, how she relished in it. 

“Well boys,” she said with a sharp smile. “Take me to bed.” 

* * *

Darcy's words unlocked the last vestiges of hesitation that clung in the air, leaving nothing but steady certainty in its place. Steve lurched upright with Darcy in his arms and began plowing an eager path to the bedrooms. 

“Mine,” Bucky called sharply to them. “Mine!” 

What kind of aggressive flirting tactic was this?

Darcy had no idea what he was talking about, but Steve knew at once what his friend was getting at. “What?” He wheeled about, Darcy dangling off him like a koala. “Why?” 

Bucky just raised his eyebrows at Steve, communicating something of importance that Darcy wasn’t privy to. “Oh,” Steve muttered, and walked them both briskly to the end of the hall. Darcy grasped the gist of the conversation when she realized they’d skipped Steve’s room and made straight for Bucky’s. 

Darcy had seen both men’s bedrooms on several occasions, normally to pop in and borrow a shirt or something similar. Steve let her nap in his room when she was feeling particularly run down from her work with Jane. Their beds were both huge, custom made to accommodate their outrageously tall and broad bodies, and their rooms tidy. Steve was a plain old neatfreak, as Darcy understood it, and Bucky seemed to simply rebel against any chaos or disorganization in his quarters, judging from how sparsely it was decorated. There was a closet with the doors shut, another door that led to his private bathroom, a nightstand by his bed and, stationed against the wall, a bookshelf with about two dozen used paperback novels in varying conditions, most of them well-loved. 

Steve set her down at the foot of the bed and kissed her without wasting even a second. 

“What,” she struggled to get out between wet smacks of lips on lips, “does Bucky’s,” kiss, “room,” kiss, “have that’s,” kiss, “so important?” 

Steve pulled away to roll his eyes. Over his shoulder, she could see Bucky standing in the doorway, an unrepentant grin on his face. 

“Buck’s a horndog,” Steve muttered, blushing. “He, uh, he’s better equipped here.”

Bucky’s tone was only a few shades away from gloating. “He means I have things like  _ lube _ and  _ condoms _ , because he’s too chicken-shit to go to buy them at the store.”

“Condoms, eh?” Darcy eyed the brunette curiously. “Something you’re not telling me, sergeant?” 

“No. Just like to be prepared.” 

“And to think they call Stevie the man with the plan,” she joked. Darcy reached up for him. “You’re way too far, Bucky. Come here.” 

Bucky, who had been peeling his shirt off, dropped the button-down on the floor and obediently moved closer. “C’mere, c’mere, c’mere,” Darcy whispered over and over, right up until he got his mouth on her for the second time that night. Bucky rolled her onto her back, either hand bracketing her shoulders. Impatiently, she began tugging his undershirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. 

“Off,” she begged, and he let her tug the flimsy material up over his head, ruffling his hair as it went. There was no pausing between her stripping of his clothes. The undershirt had barely fallen to the floor before she was reaching for his belt buckle. 

“Slow your roll, doll,” he said with a surprised laugh. Darcy most definitely did  _ not  _ slow her roll, stubbornly yanking the leather from its fastening. 

“Hey Cap,” she called with a teasing grin. “Wanna keep our guy busy while I strip him to his birthday suit?” 

Steve looked at Bucky, then Darcy, deciding something she couldn’t make out. The nervousness vanished all at once, and the blond nodded slowly. “I can do that. But then,” he said with a warning tone, “Buck and me are gonna strip  _ you  _ down.” 

She gulped. “Well, fair’s fair,” Darcy said weakly. She got distracted from her work a second later when Steve cupped Bucky’s bearded jaw and turned his face to him. 

“Hi,” Bucky murmured to the man, eyes darting preemptively to his friend’s lips.

“Hi.” Steve smiled back. “Helluva way to ring in the new year, huh?” 

Bucky let out a hoarse laugh. “Beats watching you try to cough up a lung, that’s for sure.” 

Darcy pulled the belt free from its holdings, casting it onto the undershirt with a thunk. Undoing Bucky’s pants proved to be far more difficult, as she was trying to do so without looking at her hands, too busy admiring the view of Steve slipping his tongue into Bucky’s mouth. One of his hands massaged the back of Bucky’s neck as he did. Watching them really was like watching an erotic fantasy brought to life. Both men were built like grecian gods, brawny muscles wrapped in smooth-as-silk skin. It was an impossible level of beauty seeing them together, arms tangled, mouths entwined. She shivered at the sight, clamping her thighs together briefly. 

Distracted as she was, by the time the two men broke their kiss, Darcy was no farther in taking Bucky’s pants off than when they’d started. Both turned to look at her, amusement naked in their eyes. 

“I thought you were gonna get him undressed!” Steve teased. She glared up at him from under her eyelashes.

“Can’t blame her for being distracted by you,” Bucky said idly, squinting at Steve like it hurt to stare at him without sunglasses. “You’re all kinds of pretty, Stevie.” 

The blond sputtered out his thanks, making Darcy giggle. 

“What’re you laughing at?” Bucky demanded. He undid his own pants and shamelessly let them drop to the ground, revealing a pair of dark green silk boxers. “I seem to recall you and Steve making a deal.” 

Darcy shook her head breathlessly. “That was for  _ after  _ you got naked. You’re still wearing clothes, Sergeant.”

Bucky hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and, with only a fleeting pause where he eyed her smugly, he dropped those too, revealing a half-hard, impressively thick and long cock that was protected at the base by dark, curly pubic hair. 

“Oh wow,” Darcy croaked, staring at the member hungrily. “Oh my--”

She was tackled without warning by both of them, Bucky on her left, Steve on her right. One hand, which she identified as Bucky’s, made no qualms in yanking at the hem of her dress until it found her nylon-covered thighs. Another hand, Steve’s, was much more shy, stroking over her belly like she was an excited puppy looking to have her tummy rubbed. 

Flat on her back, Darcy rolled her head to the side until she was looking into Steve Roger’s baby blue eyes. The intensity she found there knocked her breathless, and it was a struggle to eke out the question burning her tongue. 

“Tell me you want this,” she whispered shyly. 

Steve leaned in until their noses touched. “I want this,” he murmured. “More than you could possibly imagine.” For the first time, he kissed her of his own volition, tilting in to seal their lips together once more.

“This is sweet and all,” Bucky interrupted, his voice strained. “But Darcy said she’d get naked now. I wanna get Darcy naked now.” 

Nose to nose with Steve, she reached up with her free hand and caressed Bucky’s belly. “Impatient,” she scolded, running a feather-light hand along the contours of his abdomen. 

“Oh, look who’s talkin’!” Bucky tugged her upright, hands seeking blindly for the zipper of her dress. “‘Off, off, off,’” he whined, mimicking the way she’d acted only minutes ago. “C’mere, Bucky. C’mere,  _ c’mere _ .” 

“I did  _ not _ sound like that!” Darcy shouted, laughing. 

Bucky continued, undeterred. “Oh  _ Bucky,  _ please, please,  _ god _ . Please, Bucky.”

“If you’re just gonna make fun,” she threatened, swatting at him behind her. Bucky, who was clearly enjoying himself, pinched her thigh.

“Stop wriggling,” he ordered, unhooking the clasp at the top of her dress.

Darcy stood up, letting him unzip her as Steve kissed her shoulder. Bucky pushed the fabric down until it bunched at her hips and gradually fell to her ankles. She hadn’t worn a bra with her dress, a delightful secret she’d kept from either of them, but she  _ had  _ chosen to wear her nicest lingerie, a pair of high-waisted white lace panties that were cut high on the thighs, revealing a  _ lot _ of bum cheek. 

She couldn’t see either of their faces, but even with her back to them, she could hear the way they sucked in the night air in twin gasps. Steve’s fingers slipped into the waistband of her nylon stockings and began to unroll them, leaving her underwear on. She’d been anticipating a night of fun like this and had gone ahead and done herself up to the nines, waxing not only her legs but the hair between her thighs, too, a habit she wasn’t really prone to doing except on special occasions. 

She shivered when Bucky and Steve both reached out to brush their fingertips over the leg closest to each of them, simultaneously running their hand upwards from her knee to her navel, like they could speak to each other telepathically. 

“Turn around,” Steve begged, desperate and hungering. Darcy rotated about like a mannequin on display until she faced the bed.

They sat side by side, one naked, the other fully clothed. And though their states of dress were in complete opposition from one another, the reaction they had when she faced them was nearly identical. 

Look, Darcy had great tits. She had always known she had great tits, ever since she was sixteen years old and Tommy Roberts came all over himself just by copping a feel of them in the backseat of his car. As much as she’d been shamed by others for them in her lifetime, they were a point of pride as well, and she’d happily based many outfits around how well they accentuated  _ the girls _ . 

So yes, she knew she had lovely breasts, but knowing that and seeing Bucky and Steve go mute at the sight of them were two completely different things. Her belly swelled with arrogant pride as their lips parted in shock and desire. Steve was making a valiant effort to not stare for too long, as though he was worried he might offend her. Contrarily, Bucky’s eyes were drilling holes in either nipple, drinking them in like a man looking to quench his thirst.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve said quietly, his gaze on her face now. For some reason, this -- more than having her chest ogled -- made her blush a pink shade that crept down her neck. 

“Darcy,” Bucky said firmly. “Come  _ here _ .” He tugged her by the hand until she was by his knees, and he didn’t stop tugging until she was straddling his thighs, spreading her legs lewdly, though neither man could see her pussy from this angle. Her hands came down to rest on Bucky’s chest, petting the soft skin. She let her fingers stroke his nipples, smiling a little when they hardened.

“Steve’s still dressed,” she murmured into Bucky’s mouth, like it was a secret. 

“A grievous oversight on our part,” he agreed solemnly, and then, in a move that shocked even Darcy, he reached one hand over to the top button of Steve’s dress shirt, slipped his fingers into the opening between two buttons, and yanked his hand down. Buttons went flying about, one popping off right after another. Darcy didn’t know whether to laugh or be horrified. 

“Buck!” Steve snapped, glaring down at his own chest and the buttonless button-down shirt. “You’re sewing every one of those back on,  _ asshole _ .” 

The brunet was grinning at her as wide as Darcy had ever seen. “Yes, dear.” 

Darcy and Bucky worked together to get the captain undressed the rest of the way, shucking the layers of clothing onto the floor as they did. Until finally -- fucking  _ finally _ \-- the three of them were mostly naked, all save for Darcy’s white panties. 

Somehow, Darcy ended up standing at the foot of the bed with both soldiers stretched out, head on the pillows, a gap between them that was the perfect size for her. And it struck her, not for the first time, that she was about to have sex with the two most beautiful men on the face of the planet. Bucky Barnes was practically sex on legs, with his cheeky grin and devilish sense of humor. He was every fantasy she’d ever had, wrapped up in one inhumanly strong package. 

And Steve… Well, where to begin with Steve? If Darcy could build herself a boyfriend, it would probably look and act a  _ lot _ like Steve Rogers. 

“Darcy Lewis, you’re thinking too hard.” Surprisingly, it was Steve who spoke,  _ Steve  _ of all people telling her she was thinking too hard. A man who regularly fretted over offending people unintentionally. 

Bucky reached out a hand to her. “Get in this bed.” 

What kind of fool would say no to that?

Darcy crawled up the mattress until she was sandwiched between them. She wondered idly if the pair really could speak telepathically to one another, as they both seemed determined to lavish on her first. Bucky’s mouth closed over hers, wet and warm, while Steve dared to mark a trail of kisses down her neck and collar. 

“May I?” he whispered, hands hovering over one bare breast. Darcy bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

“Uh huh.” 

Steve’s response was instantaneous, closing his lips over her left breast, lapping at the nipple until hers, like Bucky’s, had formed a tiny nub. He opened his entire mouth over the nipple and lashed his tongue at it, until Darcy could no longer tell if she was moaning from Bucky’s kisses or Steve’s eager suckling.

“Harder,” she ordered Steve, breaking Bucky’s kiss for just a moment. 

The blond paused, eyebrows raised in concern. “Harder…?” 

Darcy tried to smile as kindly as she could, reassuring and sweet. “You can bite them a little. Feels good when people do that. I’ll tell you if it gets too rough.” 

“Bite you?” Steve sounded scandalized, and Darcy couldn’t help the laugh this time.

“Trust me.” 

It took time, and more kissing from Bucky, before Steve’s teeth finally came out. The first feel of them on her skin was light as a feather. She  _ knew  _ he was using teeth, but there was no pressure, no indication of it whatsoever, until--

“Bite me,” she begged him, over and over, fearing he wouldn’t do it, fearing this might be too weird for Steve to wrap his head around, when all of a sudden, the gentle scraping stopped. 

Darcy groaned noisily into Bucky’s mouth as Steve finally took his cues from her, pinching the nipple between his teeth. 

“Oh fuck me, that’s so good. Feels so good, baby, so good.”

Bucky was snickering against her lips. “You like it rough?” 

Yes, yes, she really did, but there was no time to answer him, as Bucky tilted his head to the side, brushing kisses up her jaw until he reached the soft swell of her earlobe, of all things. Darcy made a face. “What are you--oh fuck me!” 

Bucky did... _ something  _ with his mouth. She couldn’t be sure what. He did something to her ear, twisted the fleshy part of it with his teeth in a way she had never, in all her sex-having years, experienced. It was like her body had forged a new neural path connecting her ears to her cunt, for when Bucky sucked there, she felt it pulse down to her clit. 

“Fuck.” Darcy had one hand in Bucky’s hair, the other in Steve’s. “I’m… Jesus.” 

“Hello Jesus,” Steve mumbled into her breasts. He’d switched sides when she wasn’t looking. “Nice to meet ya.” 

And Bucky had to stop what he was doing so he could finish laughing, but that was okay. Darcy could use a minute of respite from the weight of  _ both  _ super soldiers’ attention. 

Eventually, Darcy ended up on her back with a man hovering on either side of her. Steve, who had been planting a diligent trail of kisses over her belly and hipbones, abandoned the last of his hesitations when she rolled her thighs apart, spreading them open to him and Bucky in a plain invitation. 

Steve sat up a little when he felt her shift, breathless and wide-eyed at her movement. She wondered if he could smell her from where he was sitting, and figured he must. She was so wet, there was no way he couldn’t. He used his hands to press her thighs apart a little more, and Steve, who once scolded Bucky for taking the Lord’s name in vain, whispered to himself, “Dear God,” like he had found the cure for cancer in Darcy’s cunt. 

The first touch of his fingers against her folds was a bit startling, if only because his skin was cooler than she’d expected. Blunt, thick fingers moved like the tendrils of a summer breeze over her slick, soaked opening, and -- yes, she was right. She  _ was  _ soaked. He ran his index finger through her entrance, never pushing inside, just gathering the sticky juices on his skin. 

“This is for  _ us?” _ Steve asked, staggered. Bucky made a noise of offense. 

“Lemme see, punk.” It was the Darcy Show all of a sudden, with Bucky shouldering Steve out of the way to get his own look. 

She made a face. Normally, if it were anyone else, she’d never appreciate this kind of attention, like she was a show pony, but… But it was hard to be mad when Bucky let out such a tiny little whine as his own hand touched her, stroking her alongside Steve’s hand. 

“Ffffuck,” Darcy slurred. It was too much. The pair of them, watching her hungrily, lavishing her with devoted attention and care. She could feel her own heart breaking over the enormity of it all.

“I wanna see you come.” Both Darcy and Bucky jumped a little at that, at the sudden mouthiness of their blond companion. Steve was resolute though, a stubborn set to his jaw. “I wanna make you come all over my hand.” 

“Mkay,” Darcy said, thankful that she didn’t just make squeaking noises. “We can do that.” 

Bucky settled in next to her, stretched along the length of her body. He leaned in to kiss her shoulder as she spoke. “You ever…” She cleared her throat, a bit nervous. She didn’t want to make Steve uncomfortable, but this would go a lot easier if she knew his level of experience. “Have you touched a lady here before?”

“Not like this.” She was relieved that he only looked a little bashful, not outright embarrassed. 

“Okay.” She spread herself with her first two fingers, revealing, at the top of the crux between her legs, the hard little nub she had that so often was tragically neglected by her lovers. “Here, see?” She touched herself with practiced hands, fingers that had done this a thousand times before. “Nice and easy.”

Steve nodded eagerly, the most devoted pupil she’d ever had. His head was bent low and close to her hand, studying her movements with diligence before daring to let the broad side of his thumb graze across her clit. 

“Cute, isn’t it?” Bucky murmured, mostly to Steve. His head was on Steve’s shoulder, watching his best friend’s exploration with hungry eyes. “Sweet, pink little button.” 

_ “Buck,” _ Steve hissed, all scandalized exasperation. Bucky just blinked at him wide eyed, offering a butter-would-not-melt sort of face. 

Darcy let Steve lead his own expedition of her happy place, enduring his clumsy touches with patience and practice. She’d been with plenty of men who didn’t have the first clue what to do with a woman’s body; less still who were interested in learning. 

After a while, she took his fingers kindly with her own. “I’m gonna guide you through this part, okay?” Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on his fingernails, manipulating his index and middle finger against the slick wet bud of her clit. “Like this,” she explained, smiling when Steve looked down at their joined hands to see how she was guiding him.

“Should I…” Steve’s hand moved as though to slip between her folds, sticky and wet. 

“No, no.” Darcy kept his hand firmly at her clit. “Just...be patient. I take a bit of time.” 

Darcy kept the movement simple, coaxing Steve to roll a tight hard circle into her clit with his two dominant fingers, alternating between slow and gentle, and hard and fast. Eventually Steve got the hang of it, enough for her to peel her hand off his and let him take the wheel, working her with increasing vigor.

“Faster,” she begged, breathlessly. Her hips began to cant upwards into his hand, and Steve and Bucky both made lewd noises at the sight, like they were coming unstitched at the seams. “Oh  _ god,”  _ she choked, “Fuck. Faster, faster, baby. Fuuuuu---Bucky, stick a finger in me. Two. Two f-fingers.” 

Bucky made a noise of surprise and confusion.

“Just.” Darcy closed her eyes tight. “Put two fingers inside me. Now. Now, now.” 

He did, and she could feel her own wetness at the way his fingers pushed into her like a knife through butter. The stretch pinched for just a second, not nearly enough to detract from the pleasure Steve was creating, before her body relaxed around his knuckles. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Bucky whispered, and Darcy clenched on him relentlessly, gripping at him while Steve sped up the tiny circles he was making over her clit. “Holy fuck. Holy-- _ Steve _ , she’s so fucking tight on me. Oh my god, I can’t wait to get my dick in you. Hey, that’s it, doll, come for us. Let Steve and me hear you now.”

His words were practically lost on her. It was all white noise in her ears, nothing but the sound of her own blood pumping in her veins as the sensation she was chasing built up higher and higher and higher until--

Darcy threw her head back and cried out, an embarrassingly loud wail of pleasure that seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room. Steve, unaware of how long it would last, kept touching her and pressing at her until the moment had passed and she trembled from the aftershocks in a state of bliss. 

“Stopstopstop,” she slurred, grabbing Steve’s hand to stop his work. “Ya did good.  _ Real _ good, Stevie. Good… Good job, honey.” 

She could hear them both breathing hard, her two boys, as though they’d gotten off as well. “That,” Steve said, practically gasping for air, “That was incredible.  _ Thank you.” _

“Dunno what you’re thanking  _ me  _ for,” Darcy laughed weakly. “But you’re incredibly welcome. Oh fuck. My heart’s racing and we haven’t even done the sex yet.”

They both laughed, and either man laid down next to her for a short respite, curling around her like bookends. The temptation to just close her eyes and drift off was almost impossible to throw off, but Darcy didn’t want to blow her chances tonight. Steve and Bucky  _ would  _ have sex, so help her god. 

“Okay,” she said, heart calming down. She giggled, coming down from her orgasmic high. “Okay, I’m good.”

“Darce, we don’t have to do anything else tonight,” Bucky said.

Steve nodded, nuzzling into her hair. 

“Don’t be stupid.” The conviction of her voice was perhaps negated a little by the fact she still had her eyes closed. A good orgasm still did that to her, had the power to knock her loose and send her straight off to dreamland, if she gave in. “I just… I jus’ need a minute, an’ we can keep going.” 

Bucky hummed in consent. “Take your time, doll…. Hey, how do you wanna do this?” 

Darcy opened her eyes and watched as they all looked from one to the other. “Someone sticks it in me, while getting fucked at the same time?” she suggested. 

Bucky leered. “We could  _ both _ stick it in ya.” 

“You’ll be sticking it in my mouth, then,” she said flatly. “Cause I’m not into anal.” 

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we all  _ please _ stop saying we’re going to stick things in Darcy?” 

“What’s wrong, too forward for you, Cap?” 

“Too vulgar,” Bucky corrected with an eye roll. “Punk’s too much of a gentleman for stickin’ it in a girl or fella.”

Darcy side-eyed the blond curiously. “Well, whaddaya say to a mind-numbing blow job while Bucky fucks you? Or vice versa,” she added, mostly for posterity’s sake because, y’know, Bucky just radiated top energy. 

Behind her, Bucky made a noise of thorough approval, while Steve blushed to the roots. 

It occurred to her, belatedly, that perhaps they wouldn’t want to do that for the first time with her around, and she opened her mouth to nix the suggestion, but Steve beat her to the punch. 

“That sounds swell.” His voice sounded unusually strangled, but sincere at least. From under his eyelashes, he peered over her to Bucky, who was similarly staring back at Steve. “I’ve, uh, never….” 

“S’okay, punk.” Bucky reached across Darcy’s belly to hold the blond’s hand. “We can go slow.” 

“Okay.” Steve nodded decisively, still red in the face but firmer now, full of conviction. “Okay, but, uh.” He met Darcy’s gaze boldly. “When Bucky’s done with me, I wanna be in  _ you.”  _

Darcy was helpless to do anything but nod earnestly. 

* * *

“Gonna go nice and slow.” 

Steve, who was laying flat on his back with a knee pulled up to his chest, blinked slowly, dopily. Darcy and Bucky had spent ages kissing and licking his nerves away, until he was a pliant jumble of bones and softened muscles. “Mkay.” 

As Bucky got a dollop of lube onto the tip of his finger, Darcy ran her hand up and down the bare slope of Steve’s chest, admiring every twitch and ripple of his smooth belly. 

“I’m not ticklish.” 

Darcy glanced down at the famed hero from where she was propped up on a bent elbow by his side. Her lips curled at the corners in fondness, amused by his boyish declaration.

“Is that so?” 

“Yep.” Steve’s grin turned wicked. “But  _ Buck  _ is.” 

“Bucky would kick me if I tried,” Darcy pointed out, only half-joking. 

“She’s not wrong.” 

They both glanced at the foot of the bed, where Bucky was stroking himself with his metal hand, a condom already rolled onto his member. His flesh hand was sliding along the skin of Steve’s asshole, caressing the rim, teasing the edges. Darcy knew the second Bucky started to insert his finger, as Steve puffed out a noise that was both surprised and pleading. 

“Shh shh shh,” Darcy leaned down to kiss him. Her thumbs slid over the hard angle of his smooth jaw. “That feel good?” 

“Uh huh.” Steve tilted his chin to his chest, straining to watch as Bucky worked his finger in to the second knuckle, then back out, setting a nice, even pace. “Holy God…” 

“Lay back, Stevie,” Bucky murmured. His finger went all the way in, down to the third knuckle. “Look at you. So pretty like this, hmm? Darce, kiss him again, would ya?” 

She did as he asked, and happily so. Steve seemed desperate for something to do with his mouth and hands, moaning with relief into the kiss. 

At the end of the bed, Bucky’s breathing had grown ragged. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the pair of you. God. Can’t believe I’m here with ya… Like lookin’ at the prettiest painting ever made.” 

“You’re a sweet-talker,” Darcy commented, eyes bright with amusement. 

“Always has been,” Steve said cheerfully, then let out an undignified yelp as Bucky added a second finger without warning. 

“How’s that? Still okay?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s good -- stop teasing already and fuck me,” Steve complained. Bucky met Darcy’s gaze with a waggle of his eyebrows. 

“Always knew he’d be a bossy sumbitch in bed,” the brunet grumbled, lining himself up with Steve’s spread asshole and pushing in with a wet squelch. The noise they made was the height of obscene. It was so telling, so suggestive of the way Bucky’s cock could just glide right in, no impediments, that Darcy felt her own sex pulse rather petulantly, jealous. She couldn’t even be sure who she was jealous of. Much as she wanted to have Bucky inside her, there was no mistaking the desire she felt at the thought of pegging Steve’s puffy pink asshole.

She redirected her focus on Steve. Bucky was just as caught in the blissful feeling of sinking into the wet heat of Steve’s entrance as he was, but the blond was utterly captivating in that moment. Every few seconds, his eyes would close tight and his brow would furrow, his mouth hanging open in a sweet upside-down moon crescent. A second later, those eyes would be blown wide open, rolling about, seeking out something, anything. And when his gaze landed on Darcy, stunned and overflowing with pleasure, she couldn’t restrain herself anymore. 

Darcy crawled on hands and knees until her mouth was hovering over the lovely, rock-hard dick, standing straight up on attention. She had asked him to put a condom on before they started - she didn’t love the taste of latex, but it was preferable to jizz - and it was no trouble at all to lower her mouth over him and in one fell swoop, take as much of him as she could. 

Bucky and Steve both groaned loudly, the former at the sight, the latter at the sensation. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, hips pistoning away into Steve. “How’s it feel, baby? How’s her mouth feel?” 

Darcy wasn’t entirely sure Steve heard them. He was lying on his back, an arm thrown over his face. “Ohhhfuck,” he said, a whiny little sound that somehow came out as one word. “Oh fuck, Darce. Jesus.” 

Sucking cocks was old news to Darcy. It wasn’t exactly a  _ difficult _ thing to do, provided the guy she was with wasn’t an asshat about it, and there were plenty of tricks up her sleeve that seemed to work on every dick she met. Simple things that were  _ damned  _ effective. Things like keeping her tongue soft, or pretending she was about to say the word  _ purple  _ as she sucked him. 

“I can’t,” Bucky was panting, pace increasing. “I can’t… I gotta…” Through Steve, she felt Bucky slam into him three more times, and then finish with a shout of Steve’s name. 

Darcy kept at it, one hand wrapped around Steve’s shaft, the other cradling the warmth of his balls. She got so into it, she almost missed his signal. 

_ “Yes,”  _ Steve gasped. “Oh fuck, yes, yes… I’m… Darce, honey, I’m gonna--”

Just like that, with his dick slotted in her mouth, he came. Saved by the condom, Darcy had no qualms sucking him off until it was over and the blond captain was a pile of bones and limp noodle muscles in bed. 

Meanwhile, Bucky had crawled on top of Steve, hovering over him, showering his face with kisses. “That was beautiful,” Bucky was saying to him, over and over. “Christ alive.  _ You _ were beautiful.”

After she pulled the used condom off Steve and tossed it in the waste bin, he held out one half-curled hand to her, beckoning her. “C’mere, honey. Lemme kiss you, you good girl.” 

Darcy grinned widely at him. “Should we call it even then?” 

He laughed, eyebrows waggling. “If you say so. Feels like I owe you more now.” 

They traded kisses like currency for a while, hands tangling with one another, legs stretched out over each other. It was like they all couldn’t get close enough to the others. Darcy slid a hand over Bucky’s shoulders and down his back while Bucky licked at Steve’s neck and Steve lavished kisses on her breasts. Darcy couldn’t recall the last time she felt so  _ good.  _

“So,” Bucky murmured to her, laying his head on Steve’s chest. “Your turn?” 

“Um,” Darcy chuckled, confused. “You two already--”

Bucky pointedly caught Darcy’s hand in his and guided it straight to his cock where, lo and behold, he was sporting an erection hard enough to hammer nails.

“What the fuck,” she gasped, leaning over to get a closer look. Bucky rolled off the blond to show her better and, sure enough, Steve was also hard again. “Would you look at that,” Darcy breathed, in awe. She giggled, a little hysterical. “Thank god I don’t have a dick! I’d never be able to keep up!” 

In a gesture too quick to track, Bucky slipped a hand straight between her thighs and slid them straight through the stickiness of her own arousal, like he was proving a point. “Thank god indeed,” he said, his voice low, like gravel. And then he pulled his hand back and, shocking Darcy to the bone, stuck his fingers in  _ Steve’s  _ mouth. 

The blond licked at the offering eagerly, humming in pleasure. It was vulgar. It was scandalous. It was the filthiest thing she’d seen all night, somehow, and even though she didn’t particularly like the taste of cum herself, it was damned difficult pretending not to be turned the fuck on by that. 

Darcy licked her lips and inhaled shakily. “I have an idea,” she said, and both men turned to give her their absolute, undivided attention.

\--

A short while later, Darcy was on hands and knees, facing the top of the bed. Steve was behind her, running both hands up and down the front of her thighs as Bucky knelt in position before her. He slid the condom on as she watched hungrily, pouncing nearly as soon as it was rolled to the base. 

Steve let Darcy settle over Bucky’s dick before he pushed inside her with little fanfare; she was so wet, it didn’t make a difference. They found a rhythm that involved Steve fucking Darcy deeper onto Bucky’s cock, until she was close to deep-throating him. 

For the most part, Darcy had expected she’d ride this part out and let both men have their fun. With her clit facing away from Steve and both her hands preoccupied with keeping her upright, she had no way of rubbing herself to completion. Coming from a good dicking was rare for Darcy. Not just rare, actually, but unheard of. She  _ liked  _ the feel of a cock inside her, but it didn’t do the trick. She always needed some external stimulus, and in the position she’d put herself in, it wasn’t like to happen this time. 

Which was okay. Steve had gotten her off like a champ, and she had enough memories in her spank bank to last her a lifetime, thanks to tonight. 

It was for that reason, her very low expectations, that she choked on her own surprise, her mouth full of Bucky, when Steve stroked her insides in a way that hadn’t ever been done before. 

Darcy’s eyes were wide, heart racing. She kept at it with Bucky’s dick, but she wasn’t nearly as focused now. Sloppier, distracted. The tightening inside her belly could only be one thing and… And she hadn’t expected this at all.

Steve and Bucky had been talking to each other over her head, switching back and forth between telling her what a good girl she was to telling one another how good she felt. “So fucking tight on me,” Steve slurred, and she could see him in her mind’s eye, head lolling back as he hooked his fingers over her hips for leverage. “Fuck. Fuck me, that’s good.” 

Bucky came quickly, probably more sensitive the second time around, and she licked him through it dutifully, eagerly. His hands gripped her hair as he moaned, calling out her name in a way she’d definitely revisit the next time she was spending some quality alone time with her vibrator. 

Meanwhile, Steve changed his angle just right, knocked against her in the perfect way. Like threading a fucking needle. “Shit!” she gasped, pushing her face into the mattress, head between Bucky’s thighs. “Again,” she begged over and over. “Again, again, please-please-please. Oh my god.” 

Steve obliged her every command, finding that unreachable spot and stoking it successfully with each pounding thrust, and she  _ knew  _ she’d be bruised tomorrow but who fucking cared? So long as he kept touching her like this, kept moving inside her like this, kept loving her like this--

Darcy came without anything touching her clit whatsoever. She came on a high, reedy cry, and it seemed to finish off Steve as well, who roared out unintelligent noises and promptly fell on top of her, pinning her to the mattress with his dick still inside her. 

“So,” Darcy said, panting, lacing her fingers with Bucky’s free hand. Steve kissed the back of her neck. “That was fun, right?” 

\---

After they were all cleaned up, after Darcy had washed her face and wiped the racoon eyes off her skin as best she could, after they had relocated to Steve’s room, the three of them crawled into bed for the night. Or rather, for the early morning, so late it was. She had tried offering to get a cab, but neither man would hear it. 

Without asking Darcy where she wanted to sleep, Bucky scooped her up and all but tossed her onto the bed, smack dab in the center of it. He then curled on one side of her, Steve on the other. The pair still seemed a bit keyed up, staring dazedly into space every five seconds. Not that Darcy was much better. Twenty minutes after they fucked, she was still breathing funny. 

“Wow,” she said with a contented sigh, smiling so hard it hurt a little.

Steve made a noise of curiosity beside her. “Hey, Darce?”

“Mhm?” 

“When you…” He trailed off, and she turned her head to face him encouragingly. “When we were…just now.” 

“When we had sex,” Darcy suggested coyly. He shot her a look of exasperation. 

“Fine,  _ when we had sex,  _ you seemed surprised when you, uh… When I was inside you and you…”

“Orgasmed.” She nodded, a bit of a blush rising to her own cheeks now. Oh, right. How could she have forgotten? She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed, but of course Steve would. Of course he  _ did.  _

Darcy wiped the sweat off her forehead, likely dragging half her foundation off with it, whatever was left. “I don’t usually come from internal stimulation. Fucking,” she added for clarity. And wasn’t that an understatement? Darcy had had sex plenty of times, and could count on one hand the number of times someone, much less a cisgendered man, was able to bring her to completion just from his dick. She almost always needed outside contact, something rubbing her clit, to really finish her off. 

A dark haired man lifted his head up on her other side, like a meerkat popping his head up from a hole in the ground. “But you  _ did _ ,” Bucky pointed out, his lips curling at the edges, all smug and delighted on Steve’s behalf. 

“Yeah.” Darcy was too tired to banter, so she stroked Steve’s ego unabashedly. “I  _ sure _ did.”

Bucky let out an impressed hum. “Way to go, Stevie.” The blond was blushing again, she could all but feel it. Darcy was happy for them both, but felt the need to warn them all the same--

“If you high five, I’ll kick you both.”

“Better save it for later,” Steve advised him sagely, and she smacked at the former’s chest. The two men laughed, then settled back down against her, bracketing her. 

_ What a way to ring in the year,  _ she thought to herself. So giddy she was, the joy rushed through her veins, almost making her feel a touch loopy. How did she celebrate last year again? Darcy thought back, and seemed to recall buying a bottle of ultra cheap vodka, soaking gummy bears in them, and pigging out as she binge-watched The Office by herself in hers and Jane’s apartment. She’d been sick the next morning, which was honestly more likely due to the volume of gummies she’d eaten more than anything else. 

Darcy thought back to that New Year’s, and compared it to this one. Before she could stop herself, she giggled once, paused, then giggled again. 

Face in the pillows, Bucky grunted at her questioningly, clearly waiting for her to speak. Darcy couldn’t have explained what she was feeling in that moment if her life depended on it, not even to herself. 

“Happy New Years, boys.” 

She fell asleep smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks for the patience and the loving support! Hopefully this delivered. Please do comment if/when you can ❤️ it's really encouraging as a writer.
> 
> Couple things to note: 
> 
> I just posted a Steve/Pepper/Tony oneshot that I am honestly quite proud of. Please feel free to check it out, if you're so inclined!
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr! Well, I've had it for a long time, but I've just started writing and posting Wintershieldshock content there. Go to portia77.tumblr.com and follow me for updates. 
> 
> And lastly, thanks so much for reading, you guys, and for all who left comments. You don't know how encouraging it is to read them, truly. I hope this helped brighten someone's day a little.

**Author's Note:**

> WAS THIS ANY GOOD?? Honestly I have read and re-read this so many fucking times. I'll be delighted if anyone out there thinks this is remotely above the level of pure trash. 
> 
> Next chapter is coming along. Comments are encouraging, as always.
> 
> Up next: Darcy begins her master plan of Seduction (that's with a capital S because it's important and very official). Spoiler alert: things go great. Things also don't quite go as she expected. 
> 
> Thank you for popping by to read this!! You're the best.


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